Again
by Shimmering-Sky
Summary: Experience, memories both painful and joyful, consciousness of the present, and anticipation for the future. These are the gifts of Time, apportioned to every human. But what happens when our time has come to an end? What exchange can be equivalent to the gift of a second chance? (Roy-centric, AU, Brotherhood spoilers. Co-written with Donjusticia.)
1. Prologue - Was, Is, and Will Be

**A/N: Hi everyone! I don't know if any of you would know me—I've never written an FMA fanfic before—but I'm super happy that you chose to come to this story. I originally came up with the idea based on a piece of fanart I saw on Pinterest (www . pinterest pin/327144360410392573/ in case anyone is curious). I saw it a few weeks ago and thought a bit on the idea, but never actually got out of the planning stage. That is, until I convinced my good friend (and co-writer of this story) Donjusticia to watch Brotherhood. He of course loved the anime, and when I told him about my idea for this story, he eagerly requested to help me write it. And by "eagerly" I mean he gave me some really good points to consider, then parodied Ed's proposal to Winry at me.**

 **…Well, you guys can thank Donjusitica for really getting this story off the ground. His insight and detailed writing combined with my general ideas and penchant for creating good dialogue have combined into what we hope will be an enjoyable story for all you readers.**

 **With that said, neither Donjusticia nor I own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor do we own that piece of fanart that I based this off of.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Prologue - Was, Is, and Will Be**_

Blue lightning dances around him, but all Roy Mustang can think about is how much his hands hurt. This shouldn't be happening. He refused to transmute, and that should have been the end of it. Now the homunculi have a way to force someone to commit human transmutation?

The lightning grows in intensity. The transmutation is almost complete—and he can't do anything to stop it.

 _"Colonel!"_

Roy's head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his lieutenant's voice. He sees her struggling against the chimera and the Xingese girl, trying to make it to his side. If she does—she'll get pulled into the transmutation too. He can't have that. Absolutely not. "Stay where you are, Lieutenant!" he orders, lifting his head up as high as he possibly can. "You can't fulfill our promise if you're dead!"

He sees her freeze, a look of realization on her face. Realization and horror.

 _"If I step off the path, shoot and kill me with those hands. You are qualified to do that."_

And he _has_ stepped off the path. He nearly lost himself to revenge not long ago, and now he's going to become the last piece the homunculi need for their plan to succeed. That plan's success would result in the deaths of everyone in Amestris—and what is the worth of one man's life in the face of millions?

Riza draws her gun with unsteady hands. The sight hurts Roy, far more than the pain in his hands, far more than any injury he's received in the past, far more than the sound of her screams as he burned the tattoo off her back. He's always hurting her somehow—and this is the worst burden he's ever placed on her shoulders. If he had the time to apologize for everything, he would. But the transmutation is almost complete—there is no time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy sees Wrath take off, sword drawn. He's going to stop Riza—he's going to kill Riza. Roy screams and thrashes about against Pride's shadows one last time. The shadows dig into his throat and arms, but he ignores the pain—it's nothing. " _Now_ , Riza!" he shouts. It doesn't even occur to him that he just called her by her first name. He makes eye contact with her one last time—her beautiful brown eyes, now stained by tears. He smiles. "Go on, Riza. I trust you."

He hears a BANG—

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

Roy Mustang awakens in a white void, gasping for breath, his head pounding. He raises a hand to his head—surprised to see the lack of a stab wound in it. He looks around in confusion, seeing nothing but an endless void of white, save the large stone gate before him. Intricately carved into the gate is a design that looks exactly like the tattoo on Riza's back.

He is alone in this place. Or at least, he _thinks_ he is.

 _"Hello… al-che-mist."_

Roy spins around in shock. Where at first he had only seen empty space, he can now see the dim outline of a male figure about the same size as him, crouching just a few feet away. The only feature the figure possesses is the outline of a mouth with grinning teeth—a smug and hungry-looking expression.

He backs away immediately, pressing against the stone gate.

 _"Why the sudden terror, al-che-mist?"_ the figure asks, not moving from its position. _"Are you afraid of the truth?"_

 _…The truth… the Elric brothers mentioned that, didn't they? That they saw a figure called Truth when they opened the portal._ Roy straightens, stepping away from the gate. "So you're it, then? You're Truth?"

 _"I have been called that,"_ the figure admits, _"though you humans have affixed many other titles to my being. One, All, the World, the Universe, and even God. But you can also say that I am_ you _."_ The figure points at Roy.

"I don't care _what_ you're called," Roy retorts angrily. "You're the one who took away Alphonse's body and Edward's limbs. Is that why I'm here now? So you can torture me the same way?"

The creature's grin grows wider. _"No need to imagine such unpleasantness of me. I simply exist to see that the law of equivalent exchange is upheld."_

Roy holds in a laugh at that. He thinks of how "equivalent" of an exchange those boys received, giving up their bodies only to receive a hollow, mangled corpse. "So I'm to be punished for human transmutation, then? When I had no say in the matter? _That_ sure sounds _just_ ," he says dryly. "Then again, you _do_ uphold equivalent exchange exactly, such as when you let people with Philosopher's Stones bypass your own law."

Truth snickers, holding up one finger. _"First correction, equivalent exchange is not 'my law', as you claim. It is an unalterable principle of reality. You can escape the principle no more than you can escape your own human mortality."_ Holding up a second finger, it continues, _"Second correction, despite all their power, Philosopher's Stones do not bypass equivalent exchange. They merely replace the medium of exchange with energy from human souls. Surely one like you would know that, al-che-mist. You're the one who forced two homunculi to deplete all the energy within their Stones."_

Roy crosses his arms, looking away from Truth. "I didn't come here for a lecture on alchemy. I didn't come here of my own volition at _all_ , actually, so I'd really appreciate it if you just let me go."

 _"I'm afraid I can't do that, Roy Mustang,"_ Truth replies, leaning forward. _"As you so rightly pointed out, since you were forced to commit the taboo, you should be able to get off easy."_

Roy blinks in surprise, but then considers Truth's last words. "I _should_ be able to get off easy? What do you mean, I still have to pay a price?"

 _"The homunculus Pride has shouldered most of the debt within his own Philosopher's Stone,"_ Truth explains, _"but it cannot take all of it. A law is a law, and I do need to exact a toll from you."_ It pauses, shifting around its weight with a sigh. An actual _sigh_. _"That is, I would exact a toll from you, if you were alive."_

"What?!" Roy exclaims, recoiling into the stone gate again. "What do you mean, 'if I was alive'? Of _course_ I'm alive, how else would I have—" A memory flashes before his eyes. Riza's tear-stricken face as she stares back at him and pulls the trigger. He'd been so confused by waking up in this place that he'd completely forgotten what had happened right before he got here. He'd just assumed the transmutation had gone through, but it couldn't have. "…I don't understand. I should be _dead_. I shouldn't have been able to do the transmutation, I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't—"

 _"Ah, so you remember now,"_ Truth interrupts. _"Yes, Roy Mustang, you should be dead. And yet, against all odds, you are here before me. The moment the transmutation was completed and the moment the bullet entered your head occurred simultaneously, thus you are here now, waiting to be shown the truth, and leaving me in quite the predicament."_

Before Roy can reply, a mass of shadow hands, reminiscent of Pride's, snake around his body, pulling him backwards. He snaps his head around to see the hands coming from the gateway—the two stone slabs now wide open. He's going to be pulled inside, and the thought terrifies him. He thinks this is going to be his punishment, dragged back into whatever hell lies beyond those doors. Roy desperately thrashes against the shadowy hands, ripping some off his shoulders while dozens more wrap around him.

"No!" he cries, as the number of hands grow too much. "This isn't right, you can't do this to me!" He reaches out, but there's nothing to grab hold of. Nothing is before him other than the cold smile of Truth.

The gate slams shut before his eyes, and now he's falling. Falling through space and time. Random images and equations, forced into his brain. Flashes of his memories, played out in reverse before his eyes. His eyes grow wide with shock and pain as he looks about. Every inch of space around Roy's body is crowded with an innumerable host of images and flashes of knowledge, impossible to describe and even more impossible to comprehend. He sees secrets of alchemy he never considered, solutions to problems no human could comprehend, the innermost thoughts of every creature that had ever inhabited the Earth.

It's too much.

Roy screams—a guttural sound unlike any he's ever heard before. His head pounds as though to burst, like he had spent ten straight years cramming textbook after textbook of information in a hasty preparation for some impossible exam. It isn't just his mind—his very being feels like it is shrinking to nothingness. He feels as though he is drowning in this ocean of knowledge beyond the portal.

" _Make it stop!_ " he begs. "Please, make it stop! I don't want this—I just—isn't there some way I can fix this? Why can't I go back? I—please—I can't do this!"

He feels his body fall to pieces, strip after strip of skin, muscle, and nerves peeling away like sheets of paper. The agony is enough to make him wish for unconsciousness or even death—but then, he sees something, swirling overhead in this vortex of knowledge. He reaches for it.

Looking back, there is no way Roy can ever explain to another person what he saw, and yet somehow understood.

He sees the consequences of his death.

 _"I'm right behind you, Roy."_

There's Riza shooting herself in the head, right before Wrath reaches her with his swords. A smile on her face.

 _"Is that…? Colonel!"_

There's his body, deposited into the same room the Elric brothers and Izumi Curtis had been teleported to. There's Edward, flipping him over, only to see the bullet hole in his forehead, and screaming at the sight.

 _"The woman, we couldn't stop her. She shot him and then herself."_

There's Pride, telling his "father" what happened, a hand over his face where it is beginning to fall apart.

 _"After all this time… and it's all been for_ nothing _?!"_

There's the Homunculus, going berserk, flashes of red lightning all around its body and the ground. There's spikes, coming out of the ground and impaling Izumi Curtis. There's sparks, disintegrating the armor that Alphonse is bound to.

 _"…_ _…_ _You… you_ BASTARD _!"_

There's Ed, wrought with grief, madly charging at the Homunculus.

 _"I don't think so, Edward Elric."_

There's Pride, gleefully leaping forward, capturing Ed with his shadows, holding him hostage until Pride forces his consciousness and Stone into the boy's body.

 _"…Well, I suppose it can't be helped. I'll have to wait until the next eclipse."_

There's the nationwide transmutation circle, still activating despite the loss of the sacrifices, the legion of shadowy hands absorbing the souls of all in Amestris. And there's the Homunculus' vow, to ensure his plans would not be foiled again.

That is the future that awaits him outside of this gate.

Death and suffering.

But there's more. He continues reaching up, at the stream of energy he sees flowing in one direction. His hand brushes it and he knows just what it is. Time. It's _time_. And… it, it's _changing_. The flow of energy reverses, like a reverse transmutation circle. The flow is backwards now.

The souls return. Edward is freed. Alphonse's armored body is intact again. Izumi and Riza come back to life.

 _Roy_ comes back to life.

None of what he had seen happens!

He removes his hand from the stream and the flow resumes its original course, but it isn't the same as before. The stream is cutting a new path to the future—and he, Roy Mustang, had altered its flow!

"I can do it!" he exclaims. "I understand! Time! It's not immaterial, it's matter! It can be transmuted! I can fix this, if I can just see how! I can—!"

He's suddenly thrown onto his back, returned to the white void. His body quivers while he gasps for breath. Roy can't do anything but stare up at the empty white ceiling as Truth speaks to him.

 _"So, did you enjoy the gift your transmutation gave you?"_

Roy sits up after a few moments, having caught his breath and gathered his strength. "I saw it… I saw the truth… time, it can be changed." He turns to look at Truth. "Why did you show me that? Did the Elric brothers see the same thing?"

Truth nods. _"All who open the portal of Truth must be prepared to receive the knowledge that lies beyond. Although, so far, I've never actually seen a human who's been able to take it all in. Most either lose their minds or choose just a couple pieces of the Truth to focus on. Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, and Izumi Curtis all wanted to learn how to advance their alchemy, and so they all saw how to perform it without using a transmutation circle. However, in your case, it would seem you wanted to learn how alchemy could be used to alter Truth itself."_

"I wanted to… alter Truth itself?"

 _"It's only natural, for someone who has died."_ Truth grins. _"Tell me, al-che-mist. Do you even know what Truth is?"_

Roy goes quiet, thinking about the answer. There's no way he's qualified to give a philosophical answer to that. "Truth… well… it's… it's the opposite of lies, and… uh… it's what's real. Right?"

Truth nods again. _"Truth is indeed what is real, though your explanation is somewhat vague on the details. To be more precise, Truth is_ knowledge _. It is the knowledge of things as they were, as they are, and as they will be."_

"…I see," Roy says, but he isn't sure if he agrees. "Is, is that why I saw what I did?"

 _"You saw the Truth of what will be, correct?"_ Truth asks. At Roy's nod, it continues, _"It is inevitable at this point. Given the flow of time, everyone in Amestris is doomed to die. There is nothing anyone can do to stop it._ That _is the Truth."_

Roy slams his fist against the empty void. "That _can't_ be the whole truth!" he protests. "I saw it—there's a way to change it! If I could just go back and look, I could change what will be!"

 _"And so you begin to understand,"_ Truth muses with a smile. _"As of now, you have paid the toll for your involuntary transgression with a quick trip through the portal. You're free to return to your world at this point, but as you can see, you have two options before you."_

Roy _blinks_ , and suddenly there are two more sets of gates occupying the white void, flanking Truth on either side. Truth gestures to the door on the right. _"Through this gate lies the future that is now. Should you go through this gate, your death will have managed to prevent the Homunculus from obtaining the power of God, but all of Amestris will still end up dead, as you saw. However…"_ Truth gestures to the other door. _"If you insist on finding the Truth you so badly desire, then the answer lies beyond these doors. Who knows what you'll find? A better Truth, or one that's even worse? Just know that the toll to see the other side is a dear one. It's your decision, Roy Mustang."_

Roy looks back and forth between the doors, considering his options. He can't even begin to imagine what he'll sacrifice to choose the left door—just that it will be extremely high. However, considering what he had seen in the portal… he can't let what happens beyond the right doors exist. If there's even a flicker of possibility for him to save Amestris and all of his friends, he will take it. He has to. But first… "What's the price for this knowledge, Truth?"

 _"You desire to alter time and therefore to alter Truth. These are not small gifts, so you should not expect the price to be small. But, why ask me that question when it is clear that you have already made up your mind?"_

Roy clenches his fists, nodding in agreement. "You're right, I _have_ made up my mind. I won't stand by and let everyone die because of me, because of the burden I forced on Riza. You can take my arms, my legs, my entire soul, whatever you need for your equivalent exchange! Just know that I will _not_ give up until I have completely eradicated your miserable 'Truth' and replaced it with a better one!"

The right gate vanishes, and the remaining one swings open.

 _"Then the Gate is open for you. Go and claim your prize, Roy Mustang."_

* * *

 **A/N: …So? Did you all enjoy this prologue? Please, tell us what you think in a review, and make sure you favorite and/or follow this story to keep up with it!**

 **Oh! And before anyone asks, there aren't any plans to focus too much on romance outside of the general stuff you'd see in canon, but if there is, you can count on it being Royai.**

 **And now, a word from Donjusticia:**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: Thank you all very much for reading and enjoying this chapter. Sky has worked very hard on this, so please give this series your support and _DO NOT_ forget to leave a review. And now, for no reason at all, I have a story I'd like to share with you!**

 ***Tap. Tap.***

 **So I was hiking with my buddy Orville when my cousin Nelly decided to bring along her brothers, Larry and Ymir. We met the Park Ranger, Trevor, who informed us that two hikers, Ike and Michelle, had gotten lost while hiking with his partner, Eric. Larry and Orville were naturally frightened and wanted to call their buddy, Salem, an expert mountaineer, to see if he would accompany them and Trevor on the hike so that they could be safe. However, an air-headed tourist named Carly, and her friend, Alice, began chatting it up with Nelly before hiking into the woods so we were forced to follow.**

 **My uncle Pete would tell you a different story, but I know what really happened. You see, Alice began daring the rest of us to hike into a dark thicket. Ymir backed out, but the rest of us didn't want to look like chickens so we hiked on in. Inside the woods, we met a geocacher named Filmore who was looking for a nearby geocache. Orville helped him find it, and in the process, we met another geocacher named Rita. Trevor warned us that it was getting dark and that we should head back, reminding us that Ike and Michelle had gone missing along this same track after they met the bear, Eric, but we told the park ranger to stop acting like my Grandpa George.**

 **Alice took the lead of our group, skipping along as she did, when she suddenly stopped. There was the lost hiker, Ike, whistling while whittling a stick.**

 **"What are you doing here!?" Nelly asked, before she heard a roar. There was Eric the bear, chasing after us. We all got out of the woods just fine, but my Aunt Delilah still won't believe my story to this day.**

 ***End story***

 **True FMA fans will understand what I just did. And if you don't get it, DON'T WORRY! Just keep reading and enjoying!**


	2. Chapter 1 - Déjà Vu

**A/N: Welcome back, everyone! It hasn't even been a week since the prologue for this story went up, but I was inspired and Donjusticia also badgered me when I** _ **wasn't**_ **inspired, and so the chapter got finished in a pretty decent amount of time.**

… **Oh yeah, speaking of Donjusticia, he's writing a little parody fanfic of this story—"Again 4Koma Theater"—which is exactly as it sounds, four short parodies of every chapter of this story. Check it out if this story gets too dark for your liking. Or if you feel like laughing uncontrollably one day.**

 **Anyways, we still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1 - Déjà Vu_**

"Colonel?"

No response.

" _Colonel_?" the voice repeats, slightly louder.

Roy shifts in his seat, eyelids almost too heavy to open. But he _does_ open them, blinking away the drowsiness. His mind feels clouded—a haze that he can't make go away. Where is he? His office? And who woke him up? "Nnn… Lieutenant…?"

"There _is_ an open bunk in the barracks if you need a nap," Riza replies, and for some reason Roy swears she's said that exact line to him before.

Roy presses a hand to his face, squeezing his eyes shut to try and get a hold of himself. The haze seems to leave and he opens his eyes back up, only to immediately blink in confusion. This isn't his office. He blinks again and realizes that it _is_ his office—his office in _East City_ , that is. It hits him then—what he'd seen in the portal, his conversation with Truth, his transmutation—his _transmutation_. It _worked_!

…But if it _did_ work…

In a rush the Flame Alchemist is on his feet, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, as he scrambles to see what was taken from him. _Hands, fingers, and arms? Check. Legs, feet and toes? Check. I'm not in extreme amounts of pain and I can breathe just fine, so I must still have my internal organs. And nothing seems to be wrong with my eyes, nose, ears, or mouth, so that means whatever was taken wasn't physical. Then, what? My soul? Then how could I be thinking all of this right now?_

"…What's wrong, sir?" Riza's voice, with a hint of concern, drags him out of his thoughts—he'd completely forgotten she was here, and now she'd seen this entire episode.

"I—uh—" Roy coughs, sinking back into his chair. No matter how much he trusts Riza, he can't tell her what happened. Not yet. "I'm fine, Lieutenant. Just took me a second to wake up, and remembered I have a lot of paperwork to file before our transfer to Central." _That's a decent excuse, right? Please don't question it_ , Roy thinks, hiding his nervousness behind one of his sheepish grins.

Thankfully, she doesn't. "This is why you should do your paperwork when I give it to you instead of wasting your time planning dates and messing with people, sir."

"Hey—that's not _all_ I do!" Roy objects, folding his arms across his chest and almost pouting like a small child. "And I _do_ do my paperwork. Sometimes. Maybe if you wouldn't act like a stern _mother_ all the time I'd get it done faster."

A smirk so subtle that no one other than Roy could notice appears on Riza's face. "I'll leave you to be a big boy then, Colonel. I have my own paperwork to take care of."

Roy makes a face while she leaves his office, and it's gone as soon as the door is shut. His expression darkens as he folds his hands together and rests his chin on them. The final words of Riza Hawkeye from the previous timeline run through his mind. _"I'm right behind you, Roy."_ Chilling words. Heartfelt words. _Cruel_ words. He _absolutely_ will not put her in that situation again. He won't let _any_ of what he saw in the portal come true here.

Having come this far back in time will definitely work to his advantage, he'll have more than enough time to plan out his "better Truth". That combined with the knowledge of how to destroy a homunculus will also come in handy. He'll be able to put a stop to their plans well before the Promised Day, he'll be able to stop Havoc from getting crippled, he'll be able to stop his team from getting split up, and—

Well.

Falman going north to Briggs wasn't exactly a… _bad_ thing, per say. It made it a _little_ easier to convince the Ice Queen to work with him.

Roy fishes a notepad and a pen out of his desk, and begins writing down all of the things he knows he has to prevent. Of the things he'd already thought of (with a side note to somehow work out how to gain Major General Armstrong's favor… or at least how to make her not want to take off his head as soon as he starts talking), he adds delaying or stopping Sloth from completing the tunnel under Amestris; failing that, preventing the crest of blood from being carved in the North would definitely work, stopping the Immortal Legion from being activated, and if he could, figure out a way to stop the unrest in Liore. He thinks it might be too late for the last one, but if he can do _anything_ to save a few lives, he _will_.

He sighs, tapping his pen on the desk a few times. What else should he do? Finding a way to contact Van Hohenheim can't hurt. Oh, and securing Dr. Marcoh from the homunculi—the man's research on the Philosopher's Stone can possibly help him out. Is there anything else? The nagging feeling in his gut says there is, but he just can't seem to—

In an instant, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of Roy's lungs. His blood runs cold and the nagging feeling twists into a sharp pain he hasn't felt before. The pen and notepad fall out of his hands. Agonizingly slowly, his eyes trail across his desk to where the phone sits. He reaches for it—the receiver has never felt so heavy in his hands, and it's never felt so hard to dial the number in his life. There's no way. It won't work. That's what he tells himself while he listens to it ring, and ring, and ring, and—

 _"L-Lieutenant Colonel Hughes' office! This is, um, Private Sheska speaking! Can I help you?"_

Roy blinks, his grip on the receiver loosening. _Sheska? That's, the girl from the library. Photographic memory or something. Works for the records department, I think?_ Roy opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He clears his throat and tries again. "This is Colonel Mustang. May I speak to Hughes?"

 _"Ah, s-sorry sir!"_ the young woman's voice almost grates his eardrum. _"He's not at the office right now—he went to see the Elric brothers off on their trip to Dublith. I-I think he should be back soon, though?"_

His grip on the receiver tightens again. "Alright, tell him to give me a call when he gets back. Please," he adds, almost as an afterthought. He still can't believe it. Almost doesn't _want_ to. The day the Elric brothers went to Dublith was the same day Hughes was…

 _"Will do, Colonel Mustang si—oh!"_ Roy hears some noise on the other end of the phone, and the sound of a male voice. Too muffled for him to make out, too. _"Lieutenant Colonel! Perfect timing!"_ Sheska's voice, quiet due to most likely holding the phone away from her face. _"There's a Colonel Mustang on the phone for you!"_

The same pain in Roy's gut comes back—only this time it's spread to his chest, tightening around his heart and threatening to choke him. The seconds for Sheska to pass the phone off feels like hours, _days_ even, and his mouth feels drier than a desert.

 _"Hey, what's up Roy?"_

No. No. No. No. It's a mistake. There's… it can't…

 _"Trying to procrastinate on your paperwork again?"_ Hughes continues, none the wiser. _"Or did you want something else? Dating advice? Have you finally figured out that a certain gun fanatic is the perfect woman for you and—"_

There's no denying it anymore. Maes Hughes is alive and well—right now, at least, and it's going to _stay_ that way. "Heh. You never change, Maes. And she's _not_ a gun fanatic—"

 _"Ah, so you admit it~!"_

"That's not what I—you know what, never mind. I don't want to argue." Roy lets himself sink back in his seat in relieve. The pain in his chest has turned into a numb sort of happiness and he doesn't want to ruin it. "Your first assumption was right. I don't feel like filing paperwork and thought talking to you could help pass the time. Got… Got any new daughter stories, Hughes?"

There's a sharp intake of breath from the other end. _"Whoa, who are you and what have you done with Roy Mustang? Because there's_ no _way my friend just asked me to talk all about my darling little angel's birthday party and how she told Winry that she was two before fixing it to three and how she practically adopted Winry as a big sister—oh it's too cute, my heart's going to ex_ plode _~!"_

Roy flinches at his friend's words. Hughes' heart _did_ explode—from a gunshot straight to it. Not in this timeline, though. Not if _he_ has anything to say about it. "I'm sure it was quite the scene. You have pictures to show me when I get to Central, right?"

 _"Who the hell do you think I am? Of_ course _I have pictures! Fifty-seven of them to be exact!"_

Classic Hughes. How can he afford all that film, anyways? "Of course you do."

Hughes laughs for a bit, but suddenly stops. _"…Is there something bothering you, Roy?"_

The Flame Alchemist freezes. He can't believe he'd forgotten how uncannily _insightful_ his friend could be. "…Yes, but… I'd rather talk about it in person. My transfer to Central is almost through—we'll be seeing each other soon enough."

 _"Ah, alright. We'll talk then. I kinda have to go now anyways—I have some important research I need to take care of. I think I'm on the verge of something_ huge _, Roy, I'll have to tell you all about it when you get here."_

 _That "something" is going to cost you your life, Hughes._ But Roy can't say that—especially not over a military line. Who _knows_ who's eavesdropping on this conversation right now. "That's fine by me. See you soon, and… and, be safe, Maes." He hangs up before Hughes can respond. He had to say _something_ , and that was the best he could come up with on the fly. Sure it probably just confused his friend, but it's better than nothing.

Roy looks at the clock. It's already late—but, he _should_ have more than enough time to make it to Central. A cover story. He needs a cover story. He picks up the notepad he dropped and makes sure to grab one of his spare sets of gloves while he's at it—no, better grab _two_ spares, he can't ever be too careful when it comes to confronting a homunculus. _One of my sisters is in the hospital and I have to go see her immediately._ Yeah. Yeah, that could work. He shuffles a few other things into his jacket before heading out of his office.

Immediately he's met by Riza, a stack of paperwork in her hands. Her brown eyes narrow in concern, which confuses him. "What's wrong, sir?"

He goes to reply that nothing's wrong when he suddenly realizes why Riza is concerned about him. Roy quickly dries his eyes on his sleeve, and shakes his head. "I just heard, one of my sisters is in the hospital, hurt real bad. I—I'm heading to Central right away. Lieutenant…"

"No need to worry. I'll finish filing your paperwork for you," she replies, with a glint in her eyes that screams 'You owe me'. And he does. He owes her so, so much—it's never equivalent exchange between them, he's always the one taking and taking and taking until there's nothing left for her to give. "Which sister is it?" she adds.

"Matilda," he replies without thinking. He realizes he probably should have chosen one of his aunt's girls instead, but the safety of his friend is at the forefront of his mind and so he couldn't help but blurt out the code name he'd given Hughes forever ago.

Riza's eyes narrow again, this time with a harsher edge to it. "Is she going to be alright? What happened?"

… _Shit, shit, I really should have used a different name. I'm an idiot._ "A mugger apparently. She fought back, but still got stabbed a few times." That's totally what could have happened, right? He remembers reading the… the autopsy report, and listening to what the receptionist saw that night, and that Hughes had received some major stab wound to his side and shoulder right before his death.

"I see…" The harshness of her gaze doesn't let up for a moment. "I'm sure she'll pull through, sir. Your family is full of fighters. Stubborn, too. There's no way Matilda would let a lowly thief get the better of her."

Roy looks away, a far-off glint in his eyes and a sad smile on his face. "Yeah, you're right…"

* * *

"I need one ticket for the next train to Central. It's urgent," Roy says, digging through his pockets for the money. 700 cenz for a trip between East City and Central, as always.

"The next one doesn't leave for another hour," the ticket seller, a young brunette with blue eyes, tells him. "You _just_ missed the earlier train, actually." She observes his uniform. "Is it military business, sir? I can—"

 _An hour? An hour. The ride itself takes about two and a half. I'll be cutting this_ way _too close._ "No, it's not business. Just make sure there are _absolutely_ no delays with the next train leaving the station," he says, handing over the money for his ticket.

Roy spends the time waiting pacing around the station, a million different "what if" situations running through his mind. What if he doesn't make it in time? What if he does, but Envy still kills Hughes? What if Hughes goes to a different phone booth—or doesn't go to one at all? What if the phone call earlier throws _everything_ he knows out of whack? What if all Roy can do is _postpone_ Hughes' death? Surely the homunculi aren't going to let him walk free—what if they go after Elicia and Gracia to get to Hughes? But the one that bothers him the _most_ is the idea that _this_ is the "equivalent exchange" for his time travel, getting sent back to a time before his friend is murdered and having to watch him die all over again.

He'd _barely_ held himself together at Hughes' funeral, and afterwards—God, _afterwards_.

Roy glances up at the clock—it's only been ten minutes, if that. He wants to scream. He can't make a scene here, so he _can't_ scream, but he wants to oh-so-badly.

The little boy crying up a storm in the middle of the station, on the other hand, _is_ making a scene, and quite a big one at that. The blond boy is wailing over some broken toy in his hands while his mother is trying and failing to get him to quiet down. Not even promising to buy the boy a new one when they get to Central stops his screaming—it has to be _that_ toy. Not a replacement.

"Please, Eric, please, calm down!" the mother pleads, eyes glancing around at the onlookers within the station. "It's only a toy. You have other toys. Why don't you play with them?"

"I…WANT…MY…TOY!" the kid wails, stamping his feet and practically screaming as tears pour down his cheeks.

 _What you_ want _is a good spanking,_ Roy thinks to himself as he tries, unsuccessfully, to block out the screaming.

"I know you do, I know you do," the mother soothes, patting her son on the back, "but there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."

Roy can't help but pity for the mother. There she is, probably dealing with her own stress, and now she has to deal with her son's screaming, which she can do nothing about.

The boy's crying intensifies as he cradles his broken toy in his hands. "But why?" he whines, "Why can't…?" More shaking and sobbing. "…Why can't it be fixed?"

"I'm sorry," his mother huffs, now a hint of just a little anger coming into her voice. "It's broken. There's nothing I can do. Just… just throw it away or put it in my bag and I'll see if I can find someone to repair it later. But please! Stop… crying!"

Of course the boy doesn't stop crying. His crying even louder now. "No… please… no!" the boy begs, "I don't want to throw it away! I don't want to kill it! Please don't throw it away!"

Roy turns his head to see the boy bury his head in his mother's blouse, tears streaming down his cheeks. Something about the way the boy does this reminds Roy of another crying child, burying her face in her mother's leg.

 _"Who are those people? Why are they putting dirt on Daddy? They can't! I don't like it! Daddy said he has a bunch of work he needs to do! Stop it! Stop putting dirt on Daddy!"_

 _Gracia can't take it anymore. Face twitching with despair, she breaks down on the spot and begins weeping with her child as the workers throw heap upon heap of dirt on top of the coffin._

 _Elicia begs for her father, begging for him to come back. But he doesn't. He's dead, broken, and nobody can bring him back._

Roy looks at the clock again and sighs. He doesn't normally do something like this, but he doesn't think he can bear listening to the boy screaming for another fifty minutes. "Excuse me, miss?" he says. "Is there any way I can help?"

The woman's blue eyes widen at the sight of his uniform. "Oh—no, no officer. I'm… sorry about the disturbance. My son will tire himself out soon enough."

Roy kneels down to be at the boy's height. Now that he's close enough, he sees that the toy is an old, wooden yo-yo, with the string ripped out and residing in the boy's left hand. "Hey, kid, can I see your toy for a second? I might be able to fix it for you."

He sniffles, drying his eyes on his sleeve. "Y-You can…?"

"I can try.

The boy gives Roy the two pieces of his toy. The wood looks to have cracked upon hitting something, and the cheap cotton string is frayed almost the entire length of it. If that's all, then the transmutation is child's play for him. Roy goes to grab his paper and pen to draw the circle, but stops before his hands are in his pockets. His eyes narrow.

 _I saw what's inside the portal. Doesn't that mean I can do alchemy by clapping, too?_

He strains his memory for some sign that he can—he'd absorbed so much information in that place it hurts to think about. But he sees, something. He pictures the transmutation circle he needs in his mind, and claps his hands together to complete it before pressing his hands on the yo-yo.

For a second, nothing happens, and Roy _sinks_ , afraid he's just embarrassed himself in front of this kid. His eyes light up when the familiar crackle of blue lightning flash around the toy, and in an instant the repair is done. Roy stares at his hands while the boy celebrates his toy being fixed. He, he actually _can_ do it. Meaning… meaning he's just made himself a bigger target for the homunculi, if word gets out.

"Wowwowwow! Mister, that was so cool!" the boy cheers. "It was like magic!"

"Magic? No, that was _alchemy_ , kid," Roy replies with a grin, but his thoughts are elsewhere. _Strange, my chest feels a bit tight now._ … _Ah, maybe it's because I'm new to the whole clapping alchemy._ "A super advanced kind where you don't need a circle," he adds. "There's only, like, three alchemists in the world right now who can do it, though, so can you keep it a secret for me?"

"Yeah! Sure!" The boy's eyes are bright as he begins messing with his yo-yo again. "Thanks super duper much for fixing it for me!"

Roy smiles again. "You're very welcome, kid."

After that, the rest of the time waiting for the train goes by so, _so_ much faster. It feels like only ten more minutes have passed when, in fact, it's been an hour and Roy's already on the train and they're on the way and _he's going to make it in time_. He'll stop Envy, he'll get Hughes to a doctor, and after that he'll have to figure out how to keep his friend and family alive. If only he had the time to call in a favor with Dr. Knox—that would be much more preferable than taking him to a hospital, where who-knows-what could get to Hughes.

The train stops, and the doors open. They've made it to Central Station.

He's on his feet immediately and is the first one out of the doors. This late in the evening, there's hardly anyone in the station. He has a clear path out and a clear path on the road, he hopes.

 _Alright, Roy, there's no sense in overthinking it now. You've been given another chance, so don't squander it. Just take a deep breath, and do what has to be done!_

* * *

 **A/N: You guys have no idea how equally fun and painful writing that phone conversation was. Fun because Hughes. Painful because… Hughes.**

 **At least the banter between Roy and Riza at the start was genuinely fun.**

 **Also, fun fact, the amount of time that Roy said the train ride would last didn't just come out of nowhere. I spent like, ten minutes calculating the distance between East City and Central based on the map of Amestris, researching how fast trains usually travelled in the early 20th century and how much tickets were back then, and then converting everything into FMA currency. And also rounded some numbers here and there for a more even result. I know, I know, I'm a nerd, I love working with numbers. What do you expect from someone trying to major in accounting?**

 **…Well, anyways, that's it for this chapter. Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys leave a review!**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: Wow… you're crazy, Sky. I know I certainly wouldn't kill myself trying to research the exact time it would take for a train traveling eastbound from Liore at 75 mph to arrive at Briggs on a Wednesday afternoon when goat herders are in the surrounding area.**

 **But I would include this pointless recipe in at the end of your story!**

 **How to Make Dr. Marcoh's famous rice cakes.**

 **Ingredients:**

 **3 quarts: Rice**

 **2 whole: Eggs**

 **1 teaspoon: Dill**

 **1 cup: Onion**

 **1 quart: Ice-cream**

 **2 cups: Noodles**

 **1 tablespoon: Garlic**

 **1 teaspoon: Paprika**

 **1 cup: Almonds**

 **1 teaspoon: Sage**

 **1 teaspoon: Tabasco**

 **1 cup: Wasabi**

 **2 cups: Icing**

 **1 cup: Lard**

 **1 cup: Leeks**

 **3 cups: Cabbage**

 **1: Haddock**

 **1: Apricot**

 **1 teaspoon: Nutmeg**

 **1 cup: Gorgonzola**

 **1: Eel**

 **1 quart: Flour**

 **1 cup: Udon**

 **1 cup: Tarragon**

 **2 cups: Unleavened bread**

 **1 cup: Raisins**

 **1 cup: Elderberries**

 **Mix ingredients in large bowl in order and bake. Serves 1 Gluttony.**

 **Thank you all for reading and supporting this series! More is yet to come!**


	3. Chapter 2 - I'll Make It, I Have To

**A/N: Welcome back, everyone! This chapter came together quite nicely again, although most of the credit for it should go to Donjusticia—I only wrote the first scene and the beginning of the second, while rest was written by him first and then rewritten/edited by me. Let me tell you, though, it was still a** _ **ton**_ **of fun to work on this chapter. (Side note, I apologize ahead of time to any Envy fans that read this chapter.)**

 **Haha. Well, we still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2 - "I'll Make It. I Have To."**_

The sun has long since set by the time Roy is running through the streets. It works in his favor because it means the streets—especially the further away from the station he goes—are practically empty, everyone having retired for the night. No witnesses to his near-frantic sprinting, which could raise unwanted questions if seen by the wrong person. But it also means that he is almost out of time, as he follows the path to the phone booth, tugging his gloves into place.

 _I'll make it._

 _I will._

 _I have to._

He turns a corner and _there it is_ , the phone booth, the space around it dimly lit from the streetlamp nearby. Even under such little light, and from ten meters away, Roy can see that it's occupied—and that there is someone outside it, a military officer with short, black hair, gun pointed at the occupant. He has barely enough time to think— _so_ that's _why they pinned his death on Ross_ —before he snaps with his left hand. The sound draws the attention of the homunculus in disguise a mere _second_ before the pinpoint flame blows up in "her" face.

The explosion sends Envy flying— _screaming_ —burning away his disguise in an instant.

Roy snaps again, this time with his right hand, a larger burst of flames sending the homunculus flying even further away.

He doesn't stop—

 _snap_

 _shrieking_

 _ **burning**_

 _snap_

 _howling_

 _ **throbbing**_

 _snap_

 _screaming_

 _ **choking**_

—not until he skids to a stop in front of the phone booth, exhaustion from running halfway across the city catching up to him. He can hardly _breathe_ — _am I really_ this _out of shape?_ —as he clings to the door frame. His vision is hazy, not helped by the low lighting from the lone streetlight, but he can still make out the crackles of red lightning signifying Envy still regenerating. He turns his head away for just a moment. "Are you," Roy starts, finding that he has to almost choke the words out, "alright, Hughes?"

Hughes' hazel eyes are wide in shock. " _Roy_?! What the _hell_ are you—forget about _me_ , you're—"

"You _bastard_!" Envy screams, the last red spark knitting his skin back together. "How are you even he-aaaaAAAHHH!" And he's back on the ground, hands over his eyes, pitifully shrieking just as he had the last time Roy had fought the homunculus.

Roy snaps once again for good measure, the flames again boiling the fluid in the monster's eyes. At this point all he sees is _red_ , and for some reason he swears his mouth tastes like metal, but he knows the flames struck true.

"Listen here, whatever you are." Each word sends a stabbing pain through his chest—he's dizzy—he needs air—but he needs to say this. "Stay the _hell_ away from my friend, unless you want to find out how many times I have to burn you in order to make you _stay dead_."

The homunculus leaps to his feet, regenerated eyes ablaze with fury. "How _dare_ you talk down to me like that, _human_?! I'm _immortal_ and _you_ look like you're about to fall ov—GGYYYAAAHHHH!" His entire body goes up in flames again. The red sparks dance about, but there are imperfections left behind by their work. Cracks on his skin, prominent on his face.

"It _looks_ ," Roy says, having to cough up some dark liquid in order to keep talking, "like _you're_ the one about to fall apart." _Just a few more snaps. Just a few more and Envy'll be reduced to his pathetic true form again. Hughes will be safe. I can do it._

One snap—the flames strike true. More screaming. More burning.

 _I can do it._

A second—not precise enough. They only incinerate one of Envy's arms. But the arm isn't regenerating. One more precise shot will do it.

 _I can_

"Roy, you need to _stop_!"

His grip on the door frame slips and he falls—not because he ran out of strength, but because he was _pushed_ —impacting with the pavement hard enough to make him cough up blood. He tries getting up, but he can't—he can't even gather enough energy to snap one last time. He can only watch as the one-armed Envy continues to charge—at Hughes, standing over him.

He wants to scream.

 _Get down, Maes!_

He's never felt this useless before.

 _You're going to die!_

He wonders if _this_ is the cruel exchange equivalent for his second chance. If he really had a chance to change things.

… _We're_ both _going to die here, aren't we?_

He sees a glint of silver in Hughes' hand—a glint that's gone in one quick movement.

A knife. Buried square in Envy's throat.

The homunculus falls, gagging, clawing at the handle. The red sparks don't appear.

… _Maes…_

"Roy!" Hughes shouts. He sounds so… distant. "Roy! Stay wi—"

…

* * *

The sun is nearing its peak of the day when Maes Hughes wakes up in the hospital. For a moment, he stares groggily at the plain ceiling. Then he remembers what happened the night before and jerks awake—a little too quickly. His right shoulder flares up in pain and he grabs at it until the pain dies back down. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but he's still on edge.

 _Roy. Where's Roy?_

His answer comes in the form of a muffled groan from the bed next to him. His head snaps in that direction—and there he is, there's Roy, twitching under the throes of a nightmare, a mask over his face to help him breathe, and an IV hooked in his arm. Hughes allows himself to rest back against his pillows. While it hurts to see his friend tortured by ghosts of the past, at least Roy isn't _dead_.

Hughes still can't believe that Roy saved his life. Or the look on Roy's face when he did it—he's never seen someone look more full of hate in his _life_. Or the fact that Roy seemed to know that the _thing_ that looked like Ross wouldn't die after just one flame. Or that he'd been more worried about how _he_ was doing when Roy himself was coughing up blood. Or—really, he just can't believe that Roy was even there in the park to begin with—he's supposed to still be in East City for a few more days. It's almost like Roy _knew_ —

A knock on the door cuts off that train of thought. Thinking the person at the door is a doctor, he sits back up and prepares himself for whatever questions or tests they no doubt are going to put him through. He does _not_ expect the _Führer_ to be the one to enter the room—although maybe he _should_ have expected it, considering what he'd found out just before his attack. "Führer King Bradley!" Hughes exclaims, attempting to salute with his right arm before remembering it's in a sling, and awkwardly saluting with his left instead.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," Bradley curtly replies, taking a moment to look at the state Hughes and Roy are in. His eye lingers on Roy for a moment, contemplating something, before he turns back to Hughes. "It would seem the two of you had quite a night last night."

"Haha… understatement of the century right there. If it wasn't for Roy, I probably would have…" Hughes trails off, an unsettling feeling in his stomach. _The information I uncovered last night, it was hidden so well. Like it was forcibly covered up by someone high enough to do it. There's no_ way _the Führer doesn't know about the nationwide transmutation circle—this isn't a visit to see how Roy and I are holding up, this is an_ interrogation _._

"Yes, Colonel Mustang's bizarre actions are the only reason we are talking right now," Bradley says, a finger tapping the handle of one of his swords. "I must say, a lot of strange reports have reached my office regarding the incident, most of which center around Mustang's involvement. I'd like a full report of the events of last night, Lieutenant Colonel."

It's hard not to flinch at the Führer's gaze. _What should I do?_ he thinks, straightening himself as he tries to remain professional. _I can't tell the Führer everything; if he really does know about the transmutation circle, he'll probably have me killed. …Wait, what if he was the one that orchestrated my attack in the first place? What if—no, no, I can't think like that, Führer Bradley is my_ leader _, not the enemy. Ahh, this is too much._ "Well… there was an attempt on my life in the archives room. I don't know how the woman got in there, but she did and—I fought her off, but as you can see…" He gestures to the sling.

"And what were you researching in the archives room at the time of the attack?"

 _I was hoping you wouldn't need those details. Does this mean you really don't know anything, or do you and you're just toying with me and you're gonna have me killed and—ugh, stop overthinking things, Maes!_ He tries to keep his face impassive to avoid suspicion. "The Elric brothers had recently asked me for help in their quest to find a Philosopher's Stone. I was in there looking into some of the records they had sent me when I was ambush—"

"Which records specifically, Lieutenant Colonel?" Bradley interrupts, finger still tapping on the handle of his sword.

If Hughes wasn't already on edge, the sight of the Führer so impatient for information certainly would have put him on it. "I… I can't recall all the details. I've never really cared about alchemy…" _But I_ do _know enough to recognize a transmutation circle when I see one._

"But it _was_ something regarding the Philosopher's Stone, correct? Could it have been something regarding how to create them?"

Hughes' mouth suddenly feels very dry. _He knows. He really_ does _know. Why else would he ask that? Our Führer is in league with the enemy and I'm going to end up killed because I know this._ "…Yes, I think it might have been," he admits, after gathering the energy to respond. He can't think of any way out of this mess.

The Führer shakes his head, sighing. "I seem to recall giving you, Major Armstrong, and the Elric brothers the direct order to cease your investigations into all events related to the Fifth Laboratory, including the alleged creation of Philosopher's Stones therein. Do I recall correctly, Lieutenant Colonel?"

Hughes looks down, about ready to scream. He curses himself for being unable to let an unfinished investigation go, and for being smart enough to put together the truth. If he'd only obeyed that order, he wouldn't be in this mess right now. "…That's correct, Führer," he replies. "I know I should have stopped my investigation, but I—"

"But _nothing_ ," the Führer snaps. "You disobeyed one of my direct orders, and I could have you court martialled for it. In fact I _should_ have you court martialled for it, because your actions not only put yourself in danger, but also those of your fellow soldiers."

Hughes wants to sink into the hospital bed. It's all true, it's his fault Roy's unconscious and it's his fault he was attacked by that woman with the Ouroboros tattoo. Court martialled, though, he can't be _court martialled_. He could end up dishonorably discharged and no one wants to hire a soldier that's been dishonorably discharged and then how is he supposed to provide for his family? "Please, forgive me, sir, I didn't—"

" _However_ , I am feeling rather generous today," Bradley interrupts again. "I will let you off with a simple demotion and transfer."

 _A demotion? That means less pay. Nothing we can't work around, though. But…_ "A transfer, sir? To where?" He hopes it's not too far. Elicia's too young to have to move all the way across the country. And he's supposed to be here in Central, working to push Roy to the top. He can't do that if he's shipped off to something like Fort Briggs.

"You'll receive your orders as soon as your shoulder is mended, Major Hughes," Bradley replies. It's strange being referred to as a 'Major' again. "But don't worry, you won't have to uproot your family for this mistake. Disobey _another_ direct order and you'll find that won't be the case."

"…I won't, sir," Hughes says, barely able to remain calm anymore because _did the Führer just subtly threaten my wife and daughter?!_

"I'm glad we have an understanding, Major. Now, back to the events of last night…" The Führer's tone completely shifts as he turns to look at the unconscious Roy. "…The reports I received said that Colonel Mustang had not received any injuries during his struggle with Second Lieutenant Ross. Could you tell me why he is currently in a coma, then, Major Hughes?"

Hughes shoots a worried look at the occupant of the other bed. "No, he showed up out of _nowhere_ and—" Hughes stops, staring at Bradley. "I'm sorry, did you just say Second Lieutenant Ross? As in, Second Lieutenant Maria Ross?"

"Yes, I did. She was your assailant and would-be murderer," Bradley replies. "You will be glad to know that she has been apprehended and is being questioned about the incident as we speak."

Hughes opens his mouth to protest, but the words won't come out. This isn't right, Maria Ross wasn't his attacker, it was a man that _looked_ like her until Roy burned away the disguise. Maria Ross is _innocent_. When he finds his voice, he starts, "Führer Bradley, sir, you have the wrong—"

Bradley cuts him off again. "Tell me, Major, why is humanity so innately nosy? Does it let them prosper? Does it carry some evolutionary benefit? I personally see no use for those busybodies in a society as advanced as ours. What about you?"

Hughes narrows his eyes nervously. Where did _this_ come from? "I—I can't say that I do, sir," he replies, deciding to try to play along.

The Führer turns, walking towards the door. He stops just before it, turning his head to look at Hughes one last time. "I don't expect my subordinates to like me. I don't even need them to _trust_ me. What I _do_ need is the strict and unyielding obedience of every Amestrian citizen, otherwise people's lives— _innocent_ lives—are bound to be put in danger. Is that clear, Major Hughes?"

"Yes, Führer," Hughes replies stiffly, backing his words with a salute. "I will not disobey a direct order again."

"Then our business here is concluded," Bradley finishes, briskly exiting the room.

The moment he's gone, Hughes finds that he can _breathe_ , the tension finally gone. He stares at his hands—trembling—before looking over at his friend. "What have I gotten us into, Roy? Do you know something I don't…?"

The Flame Alchemist murmurs in his sleep, his words blocked by the mask on his face. Whatever he's dreaming of isn't pleasant—Hughes can tell that much from Roy's drenched face and twisted brow. Hughes wonders if his friend is dreaming of Ishval and almost laughs at the irony—right now, he'd almost _prefer_ to be back in that hellhole.

… _Roy…_

* * *

Roy is late. _Very_ late. He's just stepped off the train, but he knows what he has to do. He'll get there in time, he _has_ to, he _has_ to save his friend.

The station is fuzzy, out of focus and blurred, like trying to take the picture of a moving object. It's crowded with faceless people and muddled conversations that buzz lifelessly through the muggy air. It's so packed he almost can't breathe.

He begins pushing his way through the faceless crowd, trying not to make a scene, but for every person he pushes out of the way, two more take their place. The faceless, oppressive mass has no end to it, and he needs it _gone_ , now. Roy abandons being civil—he starts shoving them down and darting in before the space is filled by someone else. It barely makes a difference.

 _Why are there so many people here this late in the day? And why the_ hell _can't they get out of my_ way _?!_

He sees the door outside—finally within reach, blocked by an unhealthily fat woman. Chivalry be damned, he's already late enough. Roy pushes her out of the way, about to take off running, only to see the reason why so many people were trapped inside of the station.

Sheep. Thousands upon thousands of goddamn _sheep_ , being herded through the streets. He can hardly believe his eyes. What has this country come to? Who in their right mind authorized a sheep migration through Central? And why _now_ of all times?

Roy begins fighting his way through the massive herd, practically swimming through the waves of cotton. He can't see the other end of the herd anywhere in sight, just more and more cotton as far as the eye can see. But he doesn't let that stop him. He can't let anything else slow him down.

Suddenly, up ahead, he sees a flash of white. It's even whiter than the sheep surrounding Roy, whiter and brighter and expanding and swallowing everything around it—including Roy.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

He's _there_. The phone booth is _right_ in front of him. Gracia—no, Envy—is standing in front of it, gun raised. His blood boils and he goes to _snap_ —but he's not wearing his gloves. _What the hell, why am I not wearing my gloves, I_ definitely _put them on while I was runn_ —

BANG!

Roy sees it. The flash of the gun. The hideous smile on Envy's stolen face. The way Maes Hughes slumps down after the shot. The blood splattered on the glass.

The gloves are on in an instant and he _screams_ , weaving the oxygen particles in the air just as he needs and _snapping_. He screams because _dammit I didn't take this second chance just to let Hughes die all over again!_

Envy has no chance to react. His body goes up in flames in an instant. His face, his eyes, his hands, his feet, his stomach—part by part is melted away and stitched back together and set ablaze again. The homunculus screams, and keeps screaming, because it's the only thing he can do.

Roy doesn't hear Envy's screams. He hears his own and he hears his snapping and he hears his heart throbbing against his ribs and he hears the _voices_ , the ones telling him he needs to _stop_ — _"You think you can lead a country looking like that?!"—"Are you becoming a beast? Giving into its passion?"—"You only want to kill him to satisfy your own hatred!"_ — _shut up, shut up, shut up, I'm not doing this out of hatred, I'm protecting Hughes right now because he's_ going _to be alright_. His limbs ache and his face is wet and the world reeks of blood and burning and he tastes metal, but he doesn't stop, he _won't_ stop until the monster before him is dead.

 _snap_

 _snap_

 _snap_

Until the charcoaled husk of a body remains, turning to dust in the wind. A hideous creature crawls out of the remains, still screaming, at a higher pitch this time. With just one more snap, the creature's wormy flesh sizzles and pops until it, too, turns to ash. Envy is no more.

Roy runs to his friend.

Too much.

There's too much blood coating the floor and the walls of the phone booth and the sight is almost too much because Hughes _isn't moving_.

"No…" Little more than a whisper. He stares at the hole right where his best friend's heart should be.

"No _._ " Louder this time, stronger, enough to remind him to _move_.

" _No_. You're not dead. I won't allow it." Roy claps his hands together, eyes shut as he tries to think of _something_ , some transmutation circle he saw in the portal, _something_ he can use to fix this. He finds one and he presses his hands to Hughes' chest and watches the blue lighting dance along the wound, stitching it up as though it had never been pierced in the first place. But that's it. Hughes still isn't moving. Still isn't _breathing_.

"Maes, this _isn't funny_ ," Roy hisses through gritted teeth, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and shaking him. "Wake up. Wake _up_ , Maes. I saved you, I _saved_ you, _I saved you_!" He shakes his friend harder—and Hughes' glasses fall to the ground. "Dammit Maes, _WAKE UP_!"

When the whiteness devours him again, Roy is still begging the corpse of Maes Hughes to wake up.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

Roy wakes to the sound of Hughes screaming.

He only has a split second to realize that he's somehow in Hughes' house, scrambling off the couch and down the hall to the bathroom. Already there's blood seeping out from underneath the door and Roy holds back the overwhelming feeling to throw up when he swings the door nearly off its hinges to get it open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him to find Maes Hughes, sprawled out on the floor, hands limp next to the massive gash in his throat. If the gash was any deeper, Hughes wouldn't have a head.

He can't even scream. He can only stare at his friend's body in absolute shock.

Until the small room fills with the echoed voice of a young boy—laughing. "You poor, poor human. Did you think that just because you had a second chance, you would be stronger than us? Consider this a lesson. _You can't change fate, Flame Alchemist._ "

" _PRIDE_!" Roy howls, hand raised to snap—but the whiteness devours him again.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

Roy comes to in the bowels of Central Command, surrounded on almost all sides by the mannequin soldiers. He snaps almost blindly, creating a path for himself through them. He sees Hughes fighting on the other side, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. His stomach twists and he cries out, "Maes, you have to get out of here!"

"No! I'm not leaving you, Roy!" Hughes shouts back, kicking away one of the mannequins that got too close for comfort before slashing another one's eye. "I promised to make Gracia and Elicia happy, I'm not gonna just stand by and let some _monsters_ take their lives!"

Roy wants to argue, he just wants his friend safe, but he sees a mannequin about to sink its teeth into Hughes' back and so instead he screams, "Hughes, _look out_!"

Hughes pivots, punching away the mannequin before emptying the rest of his bullets into the thing's face. He looks over to Roy with an annoyed but playful look on his face. "Give me some credit, Roy. I might have a desk job, but I _can_ still kick ass when I—"

Roy blinks. _Blinks_. In that short amount of time, his friend disappears—no, not disappears, he is crushed underneath a behemoth of a man that fell through the ceiling. He keeps blinking, staring at the sight, trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

"Huh…?" The monster looks down, where blood now stains his legs. "Ugh… not alchemist… So… dirty… now… Such a pain… but… gotta stop… alchemist. Such… a pain…"

The white void devours him before he can so much as scream.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

Roy is choking before he can even open his eyes. His lungs feel full of liquid and if the blood in his mouth is anything to go by, that's what he's choking on. He opens his eyes—three of Lust's elongated finger spears are stabbed into his chest, the other two pinning his hands to his sides. He coughs, seeing only red for a moment, and then the world comes into horrid focus.

Lust has Hughes in her other hand, the tips of her fingers digging into his face. He's struggling against her grip, but it's only making it worse, drawing blood where the nails pierce his skin from the movement.

"You've always been such a pain, Flame Colonel. My, how the tables have now turned," Lust purrs, her fingers twisting in Roy's chest. "If only you hadn't burned me before. And over something we'd done to this man here?" At her words, one of her claw-like fingers extends, piercing the same spot on Hughes' shoulder where he'd been stabbed before. Hughes screams and Roy wants to scream and Lust laughs.

"Y…you bitch…" Roy chokes out.

"Such a waste, really. You humans ought to know that your fate is sealed no matter what."

Her fist closes around Hughes' head.

The white swallows Roy up again, but not before warm blood splashes across his face.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

He sees the deaths happen so much faster now.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

He's fighting Pride somewhere on the streets of Central and is unable to do anything when Gluttony jumps on Hughes, messily devouring his friend in _seconds_.

…

… …

… … …

… …

…

He sees Wrath cut Hughes to bloody pieces, so fast Hughes doesn't even have time to draw a weapon in defense. And then the homunculus turns his eyes on Gracia…

…

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… … …

… …

…

He sees Greed, in Ling's body, trying to get somewhere. Hughes is in his way. Greed looks annoyed, _too_ annoyed. "I don't have time for this, old timer." He envelops one arm in his Ultimate Shield, and slams it a little _too_ hard against Hughes' neck.

…

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…

Even faster now.

…

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…

Hughes is shot in the head by a stray bullet. Dies instantly.

…

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…

Hughes is jumped by a chimera. Stabbed, bitten, and clawed to pieces.

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Hughes is bitten multiple times by the Immortal Legion. Dies soon after infection sets in.

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An explosion knocks Hughes off a wall. Dies splattered across the pavement below.

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 _Please make it stop._

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Hughes is messing around with Gracia on a flight of stairs. Slips and breaks his neck when she accidentally pushes him.

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Hughes catches a fatal disease. Dies in immense pain.

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 _Please make it stop!_

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Hughes gets caught in a train wreck on a family vacation. He, his wife, and Elicia all die instantly.

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 _Stop!_

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"Mommy, why are they putting all that dirt on Daddy?"

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 _I SAID STOP!_

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"I don't like it! Daddy said he has a bunch of work he needs to do!"

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 _MAKE IT STOP!_

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A field of tombstones, stretched across the horizon, all bearing the name "Maes Hughes".

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 _ **STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!**_

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…

Roy sees himself, standing in front of Hughes. His gun is pointed at his best friend.

"I'm sorry. So very sorry," Roy says. "I didn't want to do this. But I've seen everything else already—there is no other way. I'm sorry."

Hughes opens his mouth to reply.

 _ **BANG**_

* * *

 **A/N: Yes. That just happened.**

… **You know, I think I'm gonna start leaving "fun facts" in all my ending author's notes, since I did last chapter. This chapter has** _ **two**_ **fun facts, though. The first is that I kept getting distracted while writing the first scene, but after reading a piece of writing advice on Pinterest about action scenes and seeing this** _ **really freaking awesome**_ **stylistic thing in a Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V fanfic (shout out to Demons Anarchy of Pride for being the author of said fanfic), I had** _ **all**_ **the motivation to finish the scene and kept getting so excited that I had to pause every so often and flail my hands like an overly excited child. The second fun fact is that I rewrote/edited the nightmare sequence at two in the morning and sent it to Donjusticia with the message of "OH BOY 2 AM IS THE BEST TIME TO EDIT THINGS HOW HAVE I NOT DISCOVERED THIS BEFORE!"**

 **For the record, don't try writing at two in the morning unless what you're writing is meant to be pure angst or some weird sort of stream of conscience LSD trip.**

 **Once again, thank you guys so much for reading this story! Please leave a review telling Donjusticia and I what you thought!**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: (Don't write at 2:00 AM and send me your work unless you want to torment me by making me edit paragraphs and paragraphs of adjfgjbttxvggnnghbv! Dgbyhcfhbvccxmmmm! Bbbfffffffcccccfffffffffffffff...)**

 **(A/N: Hey, I did NOT make you edit paragraphs of nonsense. Do I need to bring up the fact that you were stunned silent by how I changed the end of that scene?)**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: …Everybody give Sky an ENORMOUS hand for her dedication. She really has worked VERY hard on this (and made me work hard alongside with her! She's crazy! If she wants to do a collaborative fic with you, RUN!)**

 **(A/N: Pfft, it's funny because I'm never the one that asks others to help me write something, either they ask ME to help THEM or, in Donjusticia's case, they demand that they be allowed to help me write something. I'll accept the label of "crazy", though.)**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: It has been a delight working on another chapter for your entertainment. There will be no hidden message in this author's note like there were before, but there will be this bonus segment. Please enjoy.**

* * *

 _So, it seems Hughes doesn't know what led Mustang to be injured last night, or even what led him to Central in the first place. I'll have to tell Father about this right away._

As Führer Bradley exits the hospital, a blond-haired soldier with glasses runs to his side. The soldier does _not_ look happy, and the Führer even less so.

"So," Bradley begins, glancing at the "soldier" with distaste. "I see you've recovered from your injuries, Envy."

The disguised homunculus grimaces, his teeth clenched in fury. "Don't talk down to me, Wrath. That bastard alchemist had _no right_ being there. I would've had Hughes if he didn't show up."

"Ah, my apologies then," Bradley—or rather, Wrath—says, "I didn't realize that taking care of two humans was too difficult of a job for you. I'll be sure to let Father know that he needs to give you easier tasks in the future. I believe Sloth could always use some company…"

If it isn't for a nurse walking by, Envy would have lashed out. "Dammit, how was _I_ supposed to know Mustang was gonna pop out of fucking _nowhere_ and continuously set me on fire?" Envy hisses as soon as the nurse is gone. "Have _you_ ever been set on fire before, Wrath? It _fucking hurts_!" The homunculus stomps his foot, shattering the concrete beneath it. "It's not right, Mustang should've still been in East City."

"Yes, Envy, I'm aware of that." Wrath thinks back to the sight of the Colonel, vulnerable on the hospital bed. There was something _off_ about the man, and not just that he was in the hospital for unknown reasons. "It seems our Colonel has acquired some source of intelligence we're not aware of. Regardless, it is still unacceptable that you failed to kill Hughes last night."

They make it back to Central Command. Stepping into the elevator that will take them underground, Envy transforms into his preferred form, fists clenched tightly. "I'll take care of them," he vows.

"What I don't understand is how you failed to take care of them in the first place," Wrath snarls, glaring at the other homunculus. "In case you hadn't noticed, Mustang was _not_ in prime condition when he was brought to the hospital—his lungs were filled with his own blood when the doctors examined him."

Envy has to physically restrain himself from punching something. "Well ex _cuuuuse_ me, I was a little preoccupied with getting _repeatedly set on fire_ , in case you've forgotten." Envy huffs, crossing his arms. "…He looked like he was about to fall over at one point, but clearly he was fine enough to keep transmuting. I don't know anything else."

 _So, Envy never touched Mustang. Pathetic, but then, how_ was _Mustang injured?_ Wrath sighs, shaking his head, as the elevator doors open. "Well, you've certainly proven utterly useless."

"I am _not_ —"

"I agree with Wrath," a young, echoed voice interrupts from the shadows. "You've made quite a mess of things, Envy. I'm impressed by how _incompetent_ you are, and I'm sure Father feels the same."

Envy glares at the moving shadows and wishes he can hurt them. "You little…!"

"You're just lucky the situation is not completely unsalvageable," Pride continues. "While he suspects something, Hughes does not know Wrath's identity, and both he and Mustang are still fully within the authority of the Amestrian government. They will not be able to do anything without our knowledge, and as soon as they step out of line… well. I'll be there to clean up the mess. Isn't that right, Father?"


	4. Chapter 3 - Prepare for the Worst

**A/N: Welcome back, everyone! I** _ **could**_ **have posted this yesterday, since I got all the edits done, but I decided to wait until today because, well, it's FMA Day, of course. I didn't get to do anything last year (as last October 3rd was the** _ **exact**_ **day I finished watching Brotherhood), and Donjusticia literally just got into the fandom a few weeks ago. So, yeah, happy FMA Day, everyone.**

 **I don't want to hold you guys up any longer, so I'll just say that we still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: HAPPY 3RD OF OCTOBER! OH SAY CAN YOU SEE!? BY THE FLARE OF MUSTANG'S BURNING LIGHT! THE SERIES THAT SO PROUDLY WE HAILED, AND HONOR IN THIS FANFIC!**

 **Yeah, I'm glad there's no audio on this website. That we you guys can imagine my voice to be as grandiose and beautiful as you want. But all jokes aside, happy feast of FMA or whatever this FMA holiday is called! Sky and I worked hard on this so enjoy it… or break our hearts and stifle our ambitions by not enjoying it… your choice… I mean… I can't tell you what to do…**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3 - "Is everything going to be okay, or do I need to prepare for the worst?"_**

 _"Maes!"_

Roy feels the scream tear through his throat before he's consciously aware that he is awake in a bed. The scream is ragged and rings in his ears along with the rapid pounding of his heart in his throat. He blinks repeatedly, trying to slow his heartbeat, but his chest _hurts_ and the mask on his face isn't helping and he can't be sitting around, Hughes is in danger—

 _Wait. Am I in the hospital?_

White walls. Overly sanitary smell. IV in his arm, and the mask on his face. Definitely a hospital. But why…?

"Owww…"

Roy's head snaps over towards the other bed in the room. He can't see anyone, but the sheet is pulled haphazardly off the one side, like whoever was on the bed fell and tried holding onto the sheet to stay on. Roy tries to speak, but the mask over his mouth muffles it. He takes it off and tries again. "…Maes? Are you there?"

A familiar head of black hair pops up from the other side of the bed, lacking his usual glasses. Hughes shoots him a glare. " _Geez_ , Roy, if we ever end up in the hospital together again, I'm requesting a different room if you're gonna scream like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack!" He looks down then, and sighs with exasperation. "…And it looks like you owe me a new pair of glasses, too," Hughes adds, holding up a pair with the frame bent out of place and one of the lenses cracked.

If it had been any other day, Roy would have retorted with some sarcastic comment that the two would have laughed off. Instead, Roy sinks back against his pillow, grimacing slightly as his lungs twinge in pain, and covers his eyes with his arm. _Just a dream. It was just a dream. My subconscious was just messing with me. Hughes is alive._

"That bad of a nightmare, huh?" Hughes asks, once he climbs back into bed. He absentmindedly scratches at the sling on his right arm. "…Ishval?"

Roy lowers his hand, eyes dark. If _only_ it had been memories of the war. He's grown almost used to those memories haunting his dreams. While they can and will keep him up at night, they haven't completely _terrified_ him in years. "I wish," Roy admits, staring at the ceiling instead of at his friend.

Hughes doesn't say anything for a solid minute or so, still picking at his sling. He breaks the silence with a cough and turns to glare at Roy again—this time actually angry. "Okay, enough beating around the bush. What in the _hell_ did you do two nights ago, Roy? You showed up out of _nowhere_ coughing up blood and _still_ tried fighting that shapeshifter person who attacked me. Don't get me wrong, you saved my life and I'm grateful for that, but you _almost died_."

 _I was out for over a day?!_ Roy's eyes widen slightly at that thought. He tries thinking about what happened before he passed out at the phone booth—it's honestly mostly just a blur of screaming and the smell of burnt flesh and he doesn't remember passing out or coughing up blood, though that certainly explains why his chest feels so tight. _…Almost died, huh. I wonder if that's my equivalent exchange; I change the flow of time too much and it rebounds on me. I'll have to think more on that later._ "…Sorry for worrying you, Maes. I guess I was so caught up in keeping you safe that I didn't stop to think about myself."

Hughes raises an eyebrow. "You 'guess'?"

"I remember a lot of screaming and burning and not much else," Roy says, knocking against his skull a few times as though that would help him remember. "What… what happened, anyways?"

"I pushed you down when that guy tried charging one last time and threw one of my knives into his throat," he replies. "He didn't get back up, so I tried waking _you_ up, but I couldn't." Hughes stares at his hands, trembling. "There was—there was a _lot_ of blood, Roy, and you were choking on it all and I couldn't—"

"Okay, you don't have to say anything else," Roy interrupts—he's glad to see Hughes alive again, but _not_ like this. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Hughes sighs. "No, _I_ should be the one apologizing. If I hadn't disobeyed my orders to stop looking into the Philosopher's Stone, I wouldn't have been attacked and you wouldn't have been hurt, either."

"Then we're _both_ sorry. Equivalent exchange," the Flame Alchemist says, with a hint of a smile on his face.

Hughes rolls his eyes, exaggerating a groan. "You alchemists and your 'equivalent exchange' this, 'equivalent exchange' that. What if I don't _want_ your apology? What if I just want to know what on Earth you were doing in Central to begin with two nights ago?"

Roy freezes, gripping the sheets on his bed. _Dammit, of course he wants to know. What am I supposed to say? 'Oh, I found out how to transmute time and send myself to the past after I was killed by Riza, and in the timeline I came from, you were murdered in that phone booth so I had to save you'? I doubt that anyone will trust me if I try saying that. Hell, they'll probably think I went off the deep end or something._ He lets his hands relax when he turns to face his friend. "I told you over the phone that my transfer to Central is almost official. I thought I'd surprise you and we could celebrate over drinks."

Hughes stares back with squinted eyes. "…And you just so happened to stumble upon that shapeshifter pointing a gun at me. _And_ knew that that guy wasn't really Second Lieutenant Ross. _And_ knew that he could regenerate his body somehow."

"I fired a warning shot first; the disguise blew off when—" Roy catches himself, he isn't supposed to know the homunculi's names yet and was _just_ about to say Envy. "—the shapeshifter was blown back. So I continued burning him." He doubts Hughes is going to believe him. _He_ certainly wouldn't believe himself if he was in Hughes' shoes. "It really was just a stroke of luck. I'd even go as far as call it a miracle."

Hughes snorts. "I thought alchemists didn't believe in miracles."

"No, we don't. But…" Roy trails off. "…I'm glad you're alright, Maes. Who else would I have to help push me up in the ranks?"

"Well I'm glad _you're_ alright too, Roy." Hughes stops for a moment, picking at his sling again. "Although, speaking of ranks—"

Whatever Hughes was going to say is left unfinished as the door to their room slams open. Both of them look up to see a small blur run and jump at Hughes—Roy instinctively goes to snap even if he isn't wearing his gloves, until he realizes who the blur is.

Three-year-old Elicia clings to her father as tight as she possibly can, head buried in his shirt. "Daddy! You're okay!" she cries. "D-Don't leave us, Daddy! We haven't done anything bad!"

"Ah—not so tight, Elicia," Hughes says, wincing at the spike of pain through his shoulder. He shifts his daughter around to his left side and returns the hug. "There, there, I'm not going anywhere, Elicia. My arm's just hurt really bad. It'll get better soon."

Elicia sniffs, drying her eyes. "Y-You promise, Daddy?"

"Of _course_ , you're my darling little angel, I wouldn't leave you for anything in the entire world," Hughes assures her with a smile. "And speaking of angels…" he trails off, squinting at the door, and sighs at the sight. "Oh, Gracia, not you too. Please don't cry, I'm alright."

Gracia dries her eyes before walking to her husband's side, sitting on the bed next to him. "I'm sorry, Maes, I'm just—the doctors wouldn't tell us how you were doing at _all_ —I'm so glad that you're alright," she says, voice shaky from her recent crying. She gingerly rests a hand on her husband's good shoulder, eyes narrowed at the sling. "Is… is that your only injury? How bad is it?"

"Yeah, this is my only injury," Hughes replies. "I won't be able to move my arm all that well for a week or so, but… well, it definitely could have been worse, if Roy hadn't been there to save me."

"Roy?" For the first time since entering the room, Gracia looks at the other bed, and gasps in surprise. "Oh! I didn't realize the two of you were put in the same room! Forgive my rudeness!"

"…It's nothing," Roy says, finding it hard to speak all of a sudden. "I didn't want to interrupt. You… looked so happy." His heart aches when he thinks of the past. The _funeral_ , specifically. It's… nice to see the three of them happy together, again.

Gracia laughs a little. "Well, you're not wrong there. Although, I don't see why you'd be crying…?"

A hand flies to Roy's face and he almost scowls when he finds it to be wet. _Dammit, that's the second time I've cried since the transmutation and haven't even realized it. I'm not turning into a softie, am I? …What should I say?_

Hughes saves him from having to respond when he gives an overdone gasp. "What's this? Roy Mustang expressing an emotion other than anger or boredom?" he says, eyes wide as though he's in shock. "Of all the times for my glasses to be broken! Gracia, take a _picture_ for me!"

Roy is glad for the shift in atmosphere—just another reason he's glad he was able to save Hughes, since the man is so good at brightening up a room. He mock-glares at Hughes. "You better watch it, Hughes. Unless you want your collection of pictures to 'mysteriously' go up in smoke."

"Aw, and how are _you_ going to do that, Mr. Useless When Wet?" Hughes taunts with the biggest smirk on his face. "Really, what are you gonna do, _cry_ on them?"

"I'll have you know that I am _not_ entirely useless when wet. I can just split the water molecules and boom! All I need is a flame," Roy retorts. "Besides, it's hilarious that you're calling _me_ the useless one. _You're_ the guy who can't tell the difference between a trash can and a person without an inch of glass in front of your eyes." _Truth_ , he's missed this sort of banter.

Hughes' face turns bright red as Gracia chuckles. "That—that was _one time_ and you _swore_ never to speak of it again!" he loudly protests.

Elicia pokes her head up. "I wanna hear what happened, Daddy!"

Roy grins almost maliciously, but before he can go into detail for Elicia (and before Hughes can scream at him to stop), there's a knock on the door. A plain-looking doctor with a clipboard in hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the man says, "but, now that you're awake, you'll have to come with me for some tests, Colonel Mustang."

Roy groans; that's the one thing he hates about hospitals more than the food. The tests. Tests mean questions and he doesn't even know if he'll be able to answer half of them. "Ugh. Fine, might as well get things over with," he reluctantly says, standing up.

…Only for his knees to promptly buckle under his own weight, giving him a taste full of tile and the fall forcibly ripping the IV out of his arm. He attempts to stand back up, but the strain is too much. _This is just great. I'm never going to hear the end of this_ , Roy thinks disdainfully, forced to remain lying there until Gracia helps him back onto his bed. Hughes is very obviously trying to stifle some laughter.

The doctor shakes his head, turning to leave. "I thought as much. I'll be back with a wheelchair in just a moment."

As soon as the man is gone, Roy shoots a look at his friend. "Not a _word_ , Hughes."

"Aw c'mon, that was—"

"Not. A. Word."

Hughes hmphs, and pouts like an upset child. "You're no fun."

When the doctor comes back with the wheelchair, Elicia worms her way out of her father's hug, running over to her mother's side without a word. She pulls _something_ out of her mother's purse and presents it to Roy: a stuffed animal in the form of a tortoiseshell kitten. "This is Mimi," Elicia explains. "Mimi'll be your friend, and you can hug her if you feel scared and she'll make you feel better! Okay, Uncle Roy?"

Roy eyes the stuffed animal with the best neutral-looking expression he can manage. "…Heh. Okay, Elicia."

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he hates cats.

* * *

The tests all produce positive results, but no answers as to where the injuries came from in the first place. Despite this, the doctor reassures Roy that he will recover quickly. Roy nods and pretends to be happy about the news, but really, he isn't happy in the _slightest_. Every minute he spends still in this hospital, every moment wasted by these examinations, every second a nurse has to push him around on a wheelchair, it all reminds him of just how _powerless_ he is. He's being forced to sit around doing nothing while his enemies have all the time in the world to prepare their next move.

He wants nothing more than to rip the IV out of his arm, throw away the bedsheets, and blast his way out of this damn hospital. Of course, he can't do any of these things—forget about the implications of those reckless actions, he knows that the best thing he can do right now is let his body heal quickly. The faster he recovers, the faster he can return to the field. And at the very least, the doctors are only keeping him cooped up in the hospital for one more night.

… _But do I have to be stuck in a room with_ him _?_

Gracia and Elicia are gone by the time Roy is wheeled back into the room, meaning that Hughes can and will _gush_ about them for hours on end. At least he doesn't have any pictures and with his arm in a sling he can't get _as_ touchy-feely as he normally would, but it hardly keeps his mouth shut. "Isn't Elicia so _precious_?" Hughes practically squeals, holding up a stuffed dog. "First she gives you Mimi to look after you, and then she gives me Frou-Frou to keep me company! Oh, and did I tell you? She made Gracia give my shoulder a kiss because, and I quote, 'Mommy's kisses make the boo-boos go away'? It's just too cute~!"

Roy groans, debating about throwing a pillow at his friend to shut him up. "Yes, Hughes, this is the second time you've said that in the past five minutes. I didn't save your life for you to drown me in daughter stories."

"Hey, _you're_ the one who called me the other day asking for some," Hughes smugly retorts.

… _That's because I thought I'd never hear one again._ Roy shoves the thought away, instead replying with, "That was to get away from doing paperwork. You don't see me doing paperwork now, do you?" His gaze drifts to the foot of his bed, where Mimi the stuffed cat rests. It unsettles him not because of his dislike for cats, but its endlessly staring eyes remind him that the homunculi are probably monitoring his every action right now. He grabs the stuffed animal and tosses it to Hughes. "…Anyways, here. It's touching and all, but you know I hate cats."

Hughes tosses the cat back at him. "Uh-uh, Roy, you're keeping Elicia's gift to you."

Roy shoots him a glare and throws the cat back at him. "Then at least trade stuffed animals with me."

"And give up Frou-Frou?" Hughes melodramatically gasps, squeezing the dog between his bad arm and his chest. " _Never_!" he shouts, chucking Mimi back at Roy again. "Elicia gave Mimi to _you_ , so _you're_ gonna love it! It's the least you could do after you and the Elric brothers got me demoted!"

Roy is caught off-guard by the words, and Mimi hits him in the face before falling onto his lap. "You were demoted? When?"

"Yesterday. That's what I was trying to tell you about before my family came to visit," Hughes replies. The look on his face darkens. "The Führer came to visit me, when you were still unconscious."

Roy's eyes narrow at the mention of Wrath—not that Hughes knows the truth. "The Führer came to visit you? Really?"

Hughes looks away, scratching his chin. "Yeah, well, he'd kind of given me the direct order to stop looking into the Fifth Laboratory and Philosopher's Stones, which I totally disobeyed. He demoted me on the spot and said I'm going to be transferred somewhere as soon as my shoulder's healed up—although he said I won't have to move, so I'm assuming I'm just being transferred out of Investigations and put somewhere else in Central. Guess they can't have someone smart enough to uncover something they shouldn't in a position like that, haha…"

Roy grimaces; he shouldn't have expected his friend to get out of this mess scott-free after being rescued. The homunculi probably still want him dead, and the transfer is probably going to put Hughes in the perfect position to be offed at any time—or worse, they'll find an even more unpleasant way to silence him. "…I'm not going to ask what you discovered that almost got you killed, Maes. Just, promise me you'll be more careful from now on."

"Oh, I will be. Next time I step out of line I'll be court marshalled—can't have _that_ happening, you know," Hughes says, resting back against his pillow with a short chuckle. "It's kind of ironic, though. I was trying to call you that night, tell you what I figured out. Thought it would be your ticket up the ranks. Now you don't even want to hear it, and I've gone _down_ the ranks."

 _That's because I already know everything._ "I probably upset enough people by showing up here unannounced, I'd rather not push my luck learning something like that," Roy replies.

"Yeah, I suppose it's probably better that way. I don't need someone _else_ getting on the executioner's block because of me."

"…Someone _else_?"

Hughes' grip on the stuffed dog tightens, as though he's in pain. "Second Lieutenant Ross. They're pinning the entire incident on her, even though we both know that's not true. And you know the military doesn't take assault against a superior officer very lightly. Against _two_ superior officers…"

 _Dammit. She's getting thrown under a bus again—only much earlier this time. I don't have all the pieces in place to pull off the same thing I did before, but I still have to do_ something _, surveillance or no._ "I see. Do you know when the nurse will be back?" Roy asks.

The change of topic rids the room of its dark atmosphere as Hughes grins—almost _maliciously_. "Ooh, needing some 'special care' from someone in particular?" he teases. "I know that brunette might be willing to give you a 'thorough examination'—and of course I promise to keep it from Riza if she ever gets suspicious."

Roy rolls his eyes; his friend never seeks to get on his nerves like this. "Shut up, Hughes, I don't need you to keep anything from her."

"Oh, so you've that sort of understanding with her. I getcha. Your relationship must have really advanced for you to reach that point." Hughes smirks, scratching behind the ears of Frou-Frou as if it were a real dog.

"That's not what—you know what? Never mind," he grumbles, shaking his head. There's just no arguing with his friend. "You can believe whatever the hell you want to about my love life." He turns his head to the door. "Hey, nurse. _NURSE_!" he shouts.

A flustered brunette enters the room. "Y-Yes?" she stammers. "Please, don't shout so loud, sir. There are other patients sleeping."

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry, miss. I just really needed to see you," Roy sheepishly replies, rubbing the back of his neck for extra effect. He has to resist shooting a glare at the dumb smirk Hughes proceeds to give him. _Not one word, Hughes._

"Yes, what is it?" the nurse asks, looking a little nervous.

"Oh, I just want to contact some friends back east," Roy admits. "I wasn't able to contact them when I first made it to Central and now I've been in the hospital for two days. I'm sure they _must_ be worried about me, you know? So, if you could be a dear and wheel me over to the phone across the hallway, I'd _love_ that."

The nurse shifts nervously, playing with a loose strand of hair. "Oh, um, well… I'd love to, but… I was told that you need to keep resting and, well…"

 _Just a little more._ "Oh, don't worry, it'll be just one phone call. And besides, if anything happens, I'll have you there to take care of me… right?" He adds a wink for good measure.

"…Only one phone call?" the nurse asks.

"It'll be quick, I promise."

The woman continues playing with the strand of hair while she thinks it over. After a few moments, she sighs and says, "I suppose I can allow that, but you'll need to come right back here to rest afterwards."

Roy beams at her, making sure to catch a glimpse of her name tag. "You're the best, Karen. Thanks."

When he's in front of the phone, he hesitates for a split second. Word of what happened has no doubt made its way to Eastern Command by now and he's sure that Riza is going to kill him as soon as she hears from him. He wishes he can go back again, and come up with a better excuse—or at least not screw up big time by using Hughes' codename. But he can't change those things now, and to that end he has to put his plans into motion ASAP.

The telephone rings hollowly in his ear. He taps his fingers impatiently. How many times is it going to ring? It's taking longer than when he'd called Hughes, but that's not right, he's sure Riza would be in his office right now and she wouldn't hesitate to answer. _Come on, Lieutenant, answer already. I don't have anymore time to waste._

 _"Hello?"_ the tired and angry voice of a _different_ lieutenant than Roy had been expecting answers. _"This had better be good…"_ Havoc continues. He sounds impatient.

For a moment, Roy is thrown off-guard by his Second Lieutenant answering the phone; he'd run out of the office without seeing or speaking to anyone other than Riza, and hadn't really stopped to think that _Havoc isn't crippled anymore_ after realizing that Hughes was still alive. He pulls himself together in an instant with a sigh of relief. "Now, that's no way to address your superior officer, Havoc."

 _"Colonel Mustang?!"_ Havoc exclaims in shock, loud enough to make Roy hold the receiver away from his ear for a moment. _"Hey, guys, the Colonel's on the phone!"_ he shouts, likely to the rest of the team. _"Man, what happened to you? We've all been trying to get answers from Central Command, but they won't say much of anything!"_

Roy can hear the voices of Fuery and Breda in the background, shouting their own questions over Havoc's back. He goes to answer when a different noise fills the background—someone stomping, and _loudly_. His eyes widen and he preemptively draws his head back from the receiver.

 _"COLONEL! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"_ Riza screams from the other end, loud enough to scare the nurse _and_ nearly blow out Roy's eardrums despite not having the phone to his ear.

… _Yep, I knew she'd be mad at me._ "Look, Lieutenant, I—"

 _"Don't give me that!"_ she cuts him off, voice quivering with fury. _"I don't understand how going to see your sister 'Matilda' in the hospital turns into you almost getting yourself_ killed _saving Hughes! Why didn't you call us sooner—no, before that, why did you go off on your own? What the hell did you_ do _?"_

Roy pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Calm down, Hawkeye, I didn't call earlier because I _couldn't_. I'm fine now, though. In fact…" He taps the mouthpiece twice in rapid succession. "I was just about to tell you the entire story. Are you listening?"

There's a pause and some movement on the other end until he hears the telltale sound of a pen tapping a desk, twice in a row. _"I'm listening,"_ Riza says, sounding much more attentive and less angry now. _"So, what happened after you left East City?"_

"Well, when I made it to the train station, I ended up getting stuck waiting an entire hour for the next train. The ticket seller was a kind woman—Felicia, I think her name was? Well, anyways, she made sure that the train wouldn't be delayed. While I was waiting for it, I met this woman named Isabelle. She had a kid named Nathan—the boy wouldn't stop crying over his favorite toy top, which he'd broken. Guess he wanted to give it as a gift to a friend of his named Danielle or something."

 _"Ah, did you fix the top for him, sir?"_ Riza says. The sound of a pen scratching against paper is audible in the background.

"Sure did, alchemy's amazing like that. Although my demonstration _did_ catch some unwanted attention; these three kids, Ben, Alice, and Robert saw what I did and thought it was _magic_ or something. Robert in particular was extremely annoying; he refused to leave me alone until I fixed some book that belonged to a friend of his named Yolanda."

 _"Yolanda?"_ Riza asks.

 _Well I'm sorry, I don't know many names that start with the letter 'y'._ "Yeah, it's a pretty interesting name," Roy continues. "I couldn't fix the book, unfortunately, but Isabelle and Nathan were so thankful for me fixing the top that they let me sit with them on the train. I ended up spending more time talking to this nice couple that sat across from us, though. If I remember correctly, their names were Caroline and Eric? …Anyways, Nathan played with their son Tracy for like, the entire train ride. Robert and Alice from the train station showed up too, with a different friend of theirs named Lucy. Lucy was a sweet girl—looked a lot like Isabelle, even though they weren't related."

He stops for a moment, noticing that his nurse has started staring at him. When she realizes he's looking back at her, she flushes and ducks back around the corner with a hasty apology.

 _"Everything alright, Colonel?"_ Riza asks.

"Oh, yeah, that was just my nurse, Karen," he replies, just now realizing how absolutely convenient it is that his nurse has a name like that. "Guess she wanted to make sure I'm not just pretending to be on the phone to not have to go back to my room. That sounds like something Edward would do, don't you think?"

Riza chuckles a little. _"Yes, that_ does _sound like him."_

"There's no way Alphonse would let him do something like that, though." Roy pauses for a moment, catching his breath. He's been talking almost nonstop since he's woken up and it's _really_ starting to hurt. But he has to finish the message. "Well, anyways, back to the story. So, Lucy brought her brother David along to play with them. Alice liked him a lot, but he and Nathan bickered for a good ten minutes until this older man who reminds me quite a bit of General Grumman whacked them both over the head and told them to shut up."

 _"Are you sure that sounds like General Grumman, sir? It sounds more like what you want to do to Edward on a daily basis."_

"Well, Edward usually _deserves_ a head-slapping for all the trouble he causes me," Roy counters, absolutely thankful that Riza had worded her last response in that manner. "Robert was a lot like him in that regard, causing a bunch of trouble for his old man Oliver. I feel for the guy and his wife, U… Ue… something with a 'U', I couldn't pronounce it if I _tried_. She and this other passenger, Susan, spent the whole ride chatting about how Tracy kept being rude to Eric and Lucy. At least, he was rude to Lucy until she threatened to show some box to a girl named Hailey—that shut him up faster than Isabelle could keep her son from sneaking food out of Mary's bag."

 _"Sounds like you had quite the ride,"_ Riza comments.

"Oh, I'm not done yet. Tracy decided he was going to prank Oliver before the ride was done. Caroline caught him, Alice, and Lucy planning it out and was going to stop them until Lucy decided to throw Mary's purse at her face. _That_ caused quite the scene. I managed to help get everything under control, but those kids were just _too_ rowdy. Eric even grounded his son for his role in the whole thing."

 _"What happened after the train ride, sir?"_ Riza asks, the sound of her pen moving no longer in the background. "All we've heard is that you saved Lt. Colonel Hughes' life, but not much else. Especially not how you were injured."

Roy sighs; he'd actually _enjoyed_ telling that story because it kept him from having to answer this part. "I'm afraid I can't tell you; I don't remember much of what happened two nights ago. Just know that I'm fine now." He snaps his fingers twice suddenly. "Oh, but that reminds me! I need you to schedule an appointment with Dr. K for my regular check-up. Tell him to meet me at the regular time and place."

 _"Got it,"_ Riza replies. _"Is there anything else you need me to do?"_

"Make sure the guys stay in line while I'm not there. I don't know if I'll be going back to East City for a while; doctors said I shouldn't be taking any long trips while I recover. Oh, and tell General Grumman I'll be giving him a call as soon as I'm out of the hospital. I can't really think of anything else right now… although, you know, maybe after the transfer is finalized, we ought to go spelunking one day. I hear the mountains near Briggs have some great underground caves—I bet Falman or Fuery would love to see them."

 _"I'm sure they would, sir."_ Riza stops for a moment, hints of a worried sigh coming through the line. _"…Before you go, Colonel, please, answer me one thing."_

"Of course, what is it?"

 _"Is everything going to be okay, or do I need to prepare for the worst?"_

Roy's grip on the phone tightens. "Prepare for the worst, just in case. But don't worry—I don't intend on dying anytime soon. I'll see you soon, Lieutenant." He hangs up before she can reply and lets out the anxious breath he'd been holding in the entire call. That's the most he can do for now. He has to trust that she'll know what to do, and he has to be ready for when she does.

"Are you done, sir?" the nurse asks, poking around the corner again.

Roy smiles at her. "I am indeed. Although… could you do me another favor, once I'm back in my room? I haven't had a _thing_ to eat since I've woken up and I am _starving_!"

* * *

 **A/N: Hughes is such a fun character to write, just saying.**

 **Fun fact for this chapter, Donjusticia was the one who wrote the second scene originally, based on a few idea I gave him, and he surprised me by coming up with that coded conversation… which I then had to rewrite almost completely from scratch because the message didn't work. And I got so into rewriting the conversation that the next thing I knew it was almost 3 a.m. Monday morning. I** _ **really**_ **need to stop doing stuff like this. Other fun fact, I wrote the scene where Elicia gave Roy the stuffed cat on a** _ **different**_ **day but still at 3 a.m., and the first name that popped into my head for the cat was "Mimi", the nickname for an OC of mine that Donjusticia loves. And the name stuck.**

 **Anywho~thanks again for reading this story, and I hope you all drop a review!**

 **Oh! And before I forget, any fellow Ed/Winry shippers out there, I put up a really short and cute one-shot about them as another way for me to celebrate FMA Day. Check it out if you want to! It's called "Like Father, Like Son"!**

 **Donusticia's A/N: Watch out for Mimi and Frou-Frou. They will be more relevant to the plot of this story than you think. Or am I thinking about 4Koma Theater?**

 **(A/N: Definitely 4Koma Theater.)**


	5. Chapter 4 - A Private Word

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry about making you wait over a week for this chapter when the others have been mostly days apart. Donjusticia actually had preeeetty much this entire chapter written before we were even done with chapter 3, but there were some plot elements that he left out and I had to rewrite like the entire second half of the second scene and got** _ **serious**_ **writer's block on all of four paragraphs. FOUR of them! And they were short ones, too! Ugh.**

 **Anyways, here's hoping you guys enjoy this chapter. Still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist though.**

 **Donjusticia's A/N: The following chapter may be too awkward for most viewers. Readers who have a low tolerance for Dramatic Irony should immediately find a different fanfic to read… probably a comedy… cough cough… from the funniest fanfic author ever… cough cough… cough cough…**

…

 **READ MY STORIES!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4 - "Colonel Mustang, I would actually like a private word with you."**_

It isn't until late afternoon the next day that Roy is allowed to leave the hospital. Hughes sticks around until then, even though he could have left hours ago, so Gracia and Elicia return to walk the two of them home. Elicia rests in Gracia's arms while her parents chat. What about, Roy doesn't care to listen. He's more focused on—and frustrated by—the fact that he's struggling to keep up when they aren't even walking that fast. His breath comes in short gasps that he's trying and failing to keep quiet.

His ragged breathing must catch the attention of his friend because Hughes turns to see how he's doing. "Hey, slow down there, old timer," he jokes, earning a glare from Roy. His expression shifts to a more serious one before he continues, "Seriously Roy, we don't need you keeling over again right after leaving the hospital. Why don't you spend the night at our place?"

 _(—Hughes screams—)_

 _(—Running. The bathroom. Blood under the door—)_

 _(—Hands limp next to the massive gash in his throat—)_

Roy blinks the image away— _that was nothing but a_ nightmare _, dammit, I can't let it affect me like this_ —and shakes his head apologetically. "I don't want to burden you anymore than I already have."

Elicia chooses this moment to poke her head up, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Uncle Roy's gonna stay with us tonight?"

Hughes reaches over and ruffles her hair before shooting a _look_ at Roy. One that clearly says _"You wouldn't disappoint her, would you Roy?"_

"If you're worried about being a burden, you shouldn't be," Gracia says, smiling warmly at Roy. "You and Maes are practically brothers, Roy, which makes you family. And if you think Maes talks too much about Elicia and I all the time, imagine how much he tells _me_ about _you_. I could probably write your biography if I wanted to!"

Hughes winks at his wife. "I'm sure you'd do a _fantastic_ job with that."

Gracia laughs, lightly slapping his arm. "Oh, stop it Maes." She looks down at Elicia, who has almost drifted asleep, head tucked into Gracia's neck. "Besides… some things are best left forgotten."

Hughes' gaze hardens. "…Yeah…"

Roy can't help but agree. The nightmares—the _memories_ —that cause him pain will never truly be forgotten, but it's… better, not having to deal with them all the time.

They round a corner, approaching the exit, when Hughes turns to face Roy again. "You still haven't given me a straight answer, buddy," Hughes says with a laugh. "So, what do you say? Why not kick back and take it easy tonight? You know Gracia makes a mean apple pie."

Roy grimaces, half from the lingering ache in his chest and half from the thought of him taking it easy. Sure, he can't go out and _do_ anything right now, but he needs to plan ahead before _everything_ falls apart. His rush to save Hughes is causing him so many problems—Maria Ross is awaiting execution, the nationwide transmutation circle is still being dug and he can't go do something about it, and he's almost _certain_ the other homunculi are now keeping tabs on both him and Hughes. He won't be able to act as freely as he did last time around—but, on the other hand, at least he already knows how far out of line he has to step in order for him to be punished.

"I really do appreciate the thought, both of you," Roy says, "but… still, I'd rather just get a hotel room."

"Nonsense," Gracia scoffs. "On this short notice, you'll be lucky to find a room with a decent bed inside, and someone fresh out of the hospital _needs_ a good bed to sleep on. You _will_ be staying the night with us—it's the least we can do for you after what you did for Maes!"

"It's hardly equivalent, but at least we're _trying_ to give you something," Hughes pipes in.

The image from his nightmare surfaces again and he sighs, putting a hand to his head. "I understand, but I—"

His breath catches in his throat and he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the car parked just outside the entrance. An expensive one, with the Amestrian flag displayed on the hood, soldiers flanking either side of it. He watches as one of the soldiers opens the door to the car, and his blood boils when he sees Wrath step out of it. He walks over to them with a pleasant smile on his face—as though he _isn't_ a homunculus deceiving the entire nation, as though he _isn't_ responsible for ordering the deaths of countless innocents, as though he _isn't_ a murderer.

The burning in his blood turns into a cold fury.

 _As though he_ isn't _the one who cut Riza to pieces after she was already dead out of spite._

 _"Roy!"_ Hughes hisses. Urgent. Worried.

And he remembers his place. This is not Wrath approaching them—or at least, he shouldn't know this. _This_ is Führer King Bradley, leader of Amestris, and someone he has no choice but to salute.

Elicia stirs in Gracia's arms, turning around to see what's going on. Her eyes light up as she recognizes the approaching man, and she points at him. "Mommy! That's the F-Fyoo-ruh! You showed me a picture of him!"

"It's Führer, sweetie, and… I know," Gracia whispers, still in shock.

When he comes to a stop, Bradley returns Roy's and Hughes' salute, and when he drops his arm, they follow suit. "I see I came at the perfect time. It's good to see you've recovered, Colonel Mustang," he says, still smiling.

 _Yeah, because you need me alive for your plan,_ Roy thinks, keeping as straight a face as he can. "Ah, Führer Bradley. To what do I owe the honor?"

Bradley chuckles—such an unsettling _normal human sound_. "No need to be so humble, Mustang. Your heroic deeds have been the talk around Central Command for the past few days, and so my wife and I would like to personally thank you with a dinner at our mansion." He pauses for a moment, eye darting over to the Hughes family. "I hope I'm not interrupting any plans you might have already made."

 _Dinner? He's inviting me to_ dinner _? What the hell's he playing at?_ Roy wants to refuse. He really does. But that would make it _way_ too obvious that he knows something he shouldn't—no soldier, especially one trying to climb up the ranks, turns down an offer to have dinner with the Führer. Suppressing a grimace, he replies, "We hadn't made any plans yet, sir. I'd be happy to eat dinner with you and your family."

"Excellent!"

"…Well then, I guess we'd better be going. Dinner takes time to cook and I'm rather famished," Hughes says, taking his wife's hand. "And Roy," he adds, "you're _not_ spending the night in some dingy hotel room. Don't make me have to hunt you down after you're done visiting the Führer's mansion."

Roy sighs and goes to respond, but Bradley beats him to it.

"Major Hughes, you're invited to eat with us too." As an afterthought, he adds, "Your family can come as well; I'm sure my wife won't mind the extra company."

Gracia splutters, face red, and lets go of her husband's hand in order to cover her mouth. "I—beg your pardon, sir, but, we're hardly dressed for such an occasion."

Hughes, equally surprised, adds, "Not to mention, Elicia here is, well she's very young and all, and she needs to get to bed. It's—it's an immense honor, sir, but, perhaps another time?"

"Nonsense," the Führer replies. "I know it's very short notice, but my wife and I really aren't as prudish as you think, Mrs. Hughes. You're dressed just fine. Besides, it looks to me as though your daughter doesn't seem to be tired at all."

It's true; while Elicia had been just about to fall asleep before the Führer showed up, now she's squirming in her mother's arms, an excited look in her eyes. "I wanna see the Fer-rer's house! Can we go? _Pleeeeease_ , Daddy?"

Hughes looks like he's about to pass out, sweat trickling down his brow. His mouth moves slightly, as though he's trying to speak, but no words come out while he rapidly looks between his daughter and the Führer. Eventually, he stops with a sigh. "Aw… curse my inability to say no to my darling daughter! We'd be honored to eat dinner with you, sir. Isn't that right, Gracia?"

"Y-Yes, of course. It's an honor, Führer Bradley," Gracia says, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

Roy shoots his friend a knowing look—Hughes doesn't know the _truth_ , but he's certainly starting to put something together. They're both trapped, and they have to play along.

* * *

During the drive to the Führer's home, Hughes and Gracia engage in idle conversation with Bradley. Roy joins in attempting to distract himself from the fact that he's sitting less than a meter from one of his worst enemies, but he really only manages to insert a few comments here and there. He eventually decides to just listen to their conversation—listen and think—and it makes the ten minute drive feel like eternity instead.

 _What's the point of all this?_ Roy thinks, staring out at passing cars. _He interrogated Hughes in the hospital when I was still asleep. No elaborate reason like this necessary. So then, why this charade? I'm sure he just wants to hear my side of the story and find out if I know too much._ He sees a gate up ahead, soldiers already standing on either side of it and saluting the car. _…At the very least, neither Wrath nor Pride should start anything with Gracia, Elicia, and Mrs. Bradley with us._

"Ah, and here we are," Bradley says, as the car pulls to a stop on the edge of a well-maintained lawn. In front of them is his mansion—white stone walls, only decorated with the Amestrian flag, but an extremely massive building nonetheless.

Elicia is the first one out of the car, bouncing around and wildly pointing at the mansion. "Mommy! Daddy! Look, it's a castle! Just like in my books!" The three-year-old giggles, twirling around in a circle. "Is there a princess inside? Ooh, or maybe a prince?!"

Gracia runs to her daughter, picking her up to keep her from dancing all over the place. "No, sweetie, it's not a castle. Just a really… a really big house."

Bradley chuckles at the sight, strolling up next to them with a pleasant smile on his face. "Well now, my wife and I like to think of it as our castle," he says, winking at Elicia, "and I'm sure you'll get to play with my son at some point this evening."

While Elicia cheers about meeting a "prince", Roy glares at the back of the Führer's head. He's glad he's one of the last ones out of the car because no one can see it. This bastard is the same one who wanted to shut Elicia up at her father's funeral in the last timeline, and now he's acting all friendly towards. And his "son" is certainly no better.

Hughes is the last out of the car and immediately goes to catch up with his wife and daughter, brow furrowing when he realizes he won't be able to link arms with Gracia due to where Bradley has positioned himself next to her. He looks back to Roy with a silent plea for help written all over his face, and it hurts Roy to know that he can't do anything.

 _Just don't do anything drastic, Maes. I didn't save you just to watch you die all over again,_ Roy thinks as he runs to catch up to the rest of them.

Mrs. Bradley is already at the door to greet them, her son by her side. Selim's face beams with all the playful innocence of a child, and the smile grows larger when he sees his father approaching the door. "Father! You're back!" Selim exclaims with joy, running up to Bradley and promptly being scooped into a gigantic hug.

The sight sickens Roy. He knows this is nothing more than a gigantic charade, with poor Mrs. Bradley as the unsuspecting victim. As Selim begins rattling on about his day at school, Roy's stomach churns at the insincerity of it all. Worse so that he can't _say_ anything about it.

"It's so wonderful to have you all visiting us," Mrs. Bradley says, gesturing to the open doors. "Please, come inside. I'm sure you all must be famished."

As they enter the mansion, Gracia sets Elicia down in order to shake Mrs. Bradley's hand. "Thank you so much for all of this! Although, I apologize for our attire—if I'd known you were going to host us, I would have gotten my family dressed for the occasion! I'm so terribly sorry!"

Mrs. Bradley smiles warmly at Gracia. "Oh, you don't need to apologize, Mrs. Hughes. Really, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I had no idea that my husband hadn't bothered to send you an invitation beforehand!" She shoots a playful glare at her husband. "Sometimes I wonder just how he can manage to run this country."

"I've got a good wife to keep me in check," Bradley says with a chuckle, "although I do admit, I could improve my abilities to plan a little better."

Mrs. Bradley laughs. "Oh, you don't have to tell me that. I still haven't forgotten our first meeting, dear."

"This sounds like an interesting story," Gracia notes. "Would you mind sharing more? It's not very often one gets to hear about this side of the Führer's life."

"Perhaps over dinner," Mrs. Bradley replies.

Roy holds back a sigh. _"This side" of his life is all a lie, though…_ _Selim's too._ He scans the dining room as they're brought into it. Aside from the sickening fact that he and the Hughes family are in the presence of two homunculi that could kill them all on the spot if they so chose, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary given the situation. There are no guards behind what might be expected of the Führer. Not only that but, true to his word, the food and décor are surprisingly modest. Roy honestly hadn't expected Bradley to be telling the truth when he said he wasn't that prudish.

Mrs. Bradley takes charge of the seating arrangement; in her mind, arranging it so as to maximize conversation, but in Roy's mind, to generate maximum discomfort—not that she realizes it. Führer King Bradley is, of course, at the head of the table. Hughes is just to his right, with Gracia next to him and Mrs. Bradley next to her. Roy is on the Führer's left, Selim next to him, and Elicia on Selim's other side. It's just his luck to get seated between the two homunculi—and he can tell that Elicia being clear on the opposite side of the table is making Hughes all sorts of uncomfortable. He wants to say something about it, but can't think of what to say that wouldn't be suspicious. So he takes his seat, observing the food spread before him.

Rather than having a servant carve the turkey, the Führer takes charge, expertly carving it while freshly baked rolls, baked potatoes with half-melted butter already inside of them, and slices of a mouthwatering corn casserole are passed around the table. Mrs. Bradley makes sure that Selim and Elicia both have reasonable portions before taking her seat. Despite his appetite having left ever since he agreed to come here, Roy takes what he thinks is appropriate. A glance across the table at Hughes lets him know that he's not the only one who isn't very hungry.

"So," the Führer begins, offering a generous chunk of turkey to Roy. He accepts with a forced smile. "You two went through quite the ordeal three days ago."

"Yeah!" Selim agrees, looking expectantly at Hughes. "I heard you'd almost been shot! What was that like?"

Mrs. Bradley give her son a harsh look. "Now Selim, be considerate. I'm sure they both must be shaken after what happened." She pauses for a moment. "I can't blame you if you don't want to talk about what happened. To be attacked by a fellow officer like that… We're all just glad that you both made it out safely."

"Yes…" Gracia agrees, eyes darkening as she lays a hand on her husband's lap. "I don't know what I would have done if Roy hadn't been there… if Maes had been…" She looks at her daughter and can't bring herself to say the last word. "…Well, that's in the past. Maes and Roy are both safe and the person who attacked them is in jail."

"Yeah…" Hughes absentmindedly nods, idly stabbing his fork at what little food he has on his plate. He keeps missing the food, causing a little _clink_ each time metal meets china. Roy notices the look the Führer gives Hughes and decides to speak up.

"It was the least I could do for him," he loudly pipes in, following his comment up by forking a large portion of the corn casserole into his mouth. He's sure it would taste delicious if his nerves weren't wound up so tight, but his stomach flips at the idea of eating anything and he has to force the mouthful down with a gulp of the water he asked for. He puts on his most convincing smile. "Excellent food, by the way. Did you cook this, Madame Führer?"

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a wife if I couldn't do the basic things," she replies with a bright smile on her face, "and I did indeed make that casserole. I can't claim much responsibility for the rest of the food, though. I _do_ have a few professional chefs to coach me in the kitchen, after all."

Gracia takes a bite of her turkey. "Mm, you'll have to lend me one of those chefs. Any more of this food and Maes might just leave me for your cooking!"

"I'd have him executed as a traitor before I let that happen," the Führer deadpans.

He can't keep a straight face when both his wife and Gracia start laughing. Hughes nervously chuckles with them, eyes not leaving his daughter across the table as he takes a bite from his food. Roy doesn't find the joke funny in the slightest, but tries to laugh with them anyways. It sounds unnaturally loud and draws looks from everyone else so he stops, clearing his throat.

"Uh… sorry," Roy says, eyes dropping to his plate as he cuts his slice of turkey into a smaller portion. "I just, if there's _one thing_ I know about Maes, it's that there's nothing in the _world_ that could make him leave his family." _Nothing except death, that is._ "I mean, have you _seen_ all the pictures he carries with him? I can hardly catch a break when he goes off talking about them," he adds, hoping to bring the conversation to a more comfortable topic for his friend. He's been unusually quiet the entire dinner and it's not right.

Elicia is the one to speak up, though. "That's because my daddy is the bestest daddy ever!" she exclaims.

"I don't know, my father is pretty cool too," Selim pipes in.

 _Exactly which "father" are you referring to?_ Roy ruefully thinks, taking another bite of turkey.

"Nuh-uh!" Elicia protests, hands on her hips as she glares at Selim. " _My_ daddy is the best! He gives me toys, and piggyback rides, and he tells the best bedtime stories!"

Selim shrugs. "Well, I guess that's true, but I bet _your_ dad's never let you ride a pony before."

The three-year-old gasps, eyes wide as saucers. "A pony? You have a pony?"

"Yeah!" Selim replies, face bright with all the innocence of a normal six-year-old. "I've got _lots_ of them out back, all sorts of sizes! After dinner, I could show you how to ride one!"

 _Well, aren't_ you _the smooth one, Pride._ Roy lets out as quiet a sigh as he can, trying desperately not to glare at the homunculus or grind his teeth in anger.

Elicia squeals with joy before giving her father her best puppy-eyes look. "Can I, Daddy? Pleeease?"

"Elicia, don't be rude," Gracia interrupts. "Daddy can't tell them what to do. It's up to our hosts."

"Oh, she is _more_ than welcome to ride one of them!" Mrs. Bradley says with an excited expression on her face. "Selim doesn't have many playmates, you see—most of the kids at school are too intimidated by him being the Führer's son to befriend him. I'm sure that Elicia and Selim will—"

Hughes suddenly slams his good hand onto the table, rattling the loose silverware and cups near him. "She's too young for him!" he blurts, almost desperately.

Gracia slaps his arm, not caring that it's his bad one, and glares at him. " _Maes_ , we are with the Führer and his family, do _not_ start this. Elicia is only a child, you don't have to worry about her making friends with a _boy_."

"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Hughes," Mrs. Bradley assures him. "Selim is a very well-behaved boy."

"That's not—" Hughes grimaces, gripping his injured shoulder. "I didn't mean…" He hangs his head, face flushed with embarrassment. His mouth moves for a bit, unable to actually voice any words until he sighs. "…I'm sorry about the scene. I just don't think it's a good idea… right now, anyways. It's gotten late; it's time for Elicia to get to bed."

"But _Daddy_ , I wanna ride the pony!" Elicia protests.

Bradley glances at the grandfather clock resting on the wall behind him, humming to himself. "I'd hardly call it _that_ late, Major, but if you believe that it is, you may leave. You'll simply have to bring your daughter to work with you one of these days."

"I-I'm sorry?" Hughes splutters.

"Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you," the Führer says, exaggeratedly hitting himself in the side of the head. "I mentioned that you were going to be transferred when we spoke the other day. Well, I've been in need for a personal assistant for quite a while now. While it _is_ troubling that you disobeyed orders, I've found it hard to find anyone else more qualified for the job."

Roy's fork slips out of his hand, loudly clattering against his plate. He's sure the noise would have drawn attention had Hughes' reaction to this news not been to make some bizarre squawking sound while falling out of his chair—and a certainly justified reaction at that. This is _exactly_ how the Führer held Riza virtually captive last time around. Now Hughes will be in that position, able to be cut down whenever the homunculi feel like it.

 _Dammit_ , Roy thinks, picking up his fork while Gracia helps her husband back to his feet. _I was expecting Pride to come up with some excuse to leave me alone with Wrath, not_ this _._ This _is even_ worse _._

"Are you alright, Maes?" Gracia asks, concern written all over her face. "Working directly under Führer Bradley is—I know it's quite a shock, but, it's a good thing, isn't it?"

"W-Well, I wouldn't say—that is—" Hughes cuts himself off, clutching at his shoulder again and this time not bothering to hide the hiss of pain. " _Shiii_ —uh—sorry—I think the pain medication they gave me at the hospital just— _ah_ —wore off." It seems to hurt so much that he even flinches when Gracia gently lays a hand on it.

"Oh dear…" Gracia mumbles, withdrawing her hand. "How bad does it hurt right now?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say a seven," Hughes replies, face scrunching up. "Maybe an eight. I-I'm sorry, Führer Bradley, I _really_ don't mean to cause a scene. My shoulder just has a mind of its own right now, haha… ha…"

Bradley isn't laughing, his lone eye staring directly at Hughes until the Major looks away, still holding his shoulder. "…Well, I suppose it can't be helped," Bradley says eventually. "An injury like that will definitely hurt for a while. Perhaps it's time to send you and your family home?"

Relief washes over Hughes' face for a split second. "That—that would be great, sir," he says, forcing himself to smile. "Thank you very much for inviting us to dinner, and—again, I'm so sorry about this. As… As soon as my shoulder's healed up, I'll make things up to you. Somehow."

"Aw… are we going home already?" Elicia whines. "I didn't get to see the ponies!"

"Sorry, sweetie, your daddy is in a lot of pain right now," Gracia replies. The three-year-old pouts, her cheeks puffed up like balloons, so Gracia quickly adds, "You'll be able to see them some other time. Right, dear?"

Hughes stiffens; whether it's from his shoulder or the idea of bringing Elicia back here is anyone's guess. "I—well—I suppose…" He looks nervously at the Führer.

Bradley waves his hand dismissively. "No need to look at me for permission, Major; I was the one who suggested bringing her with you one of these days. How does this Thursday at 3:30 sound? That way, Selim will be home from school, and we can also discuss just what I'll have you doing as my assistant." He pauses for a moment, taking a bite of his food. "…Provided your shoulder isn't causing you anymore trouble, of course."

"That… that would be acceptable, sir," Hughes says, bowing in lieu of a salute.

Mrs. Bradley rises, clapping her hands together. "Excellent! I'm sure that Elicia and Selim will get along just fine. In the meantime, I'd be happy to escort all of you outside."

Just like that, dinner comes to a close. Roy can hardly believe it. The whole time, he's been expecting something to happen—some sort of interrogation. The announcement of Hughes becoming the Führer's assistant being the _only_ thing that did, though? He's immediately grateful for Hughes' tendency to overreact to big news—the interrogation will come when he's had more than enough time to prepare his answers.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang, I would actually like a private word with you," the Führer says. He has not left his seat yet, unlike everyone else.

… _Of course. I shouldn't have let myself think I'd gotten off easy._ He notices Hughes' worried glance back at him and subtly motions for Hughes to go on ahead before returning to his seat. Hughes makes a face, but does end up leaving with his family, deciding that Selim leading Elicia out of the mansion is a more pressing matter.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Führer?" Roy asks as soon as the two of them are completely alone.

The Führer takes his sweet time answering, idly swirling the contents of his wine glass and watching the way the surface ripples. He takes a sip from it—almost painstakingly drawn out—before setting the glass back down. "You and the Major both seemed quite tense during our meal. Anything bothering you?"

 _And so it begins._

"Maes is still very shaken after the attempt on his life," Roy starts. "He's also _ridiculously_ overprotective of Elicia, so I have no doubt that her being placed on the opposite end of the table unsettled him greatly. As for me…" He trails off, leaning back in his seat. "It's stupid, really. I had a nightmare when I was unconscious and I _still_ can't get it out of my mind. You'd think I'd be able to deal with nightmares after my time in Ishval, but…"

 _That's not really a lie, is it? That nightmare_ is _still bothering me._

"Ishval…" Bradley takes another sip of his wine. "You were a hero then, too."

Roy holds back a grimace. The Hero of Ishval— _not_ a title he's proud of.

"But you became a hero back then not by being in the right place at the right time, but because that was where you were _supposed_ to be," Bradley continues, and Roy can almost _feel_ the gaze from the eye underneath the patch. "Enlighten me, Colonel. You were stationed in East City underneath General Grumman—what led you to abandon your post and come to Central three days ago?"

"With all due respect, sir, I didn't 'abandon' my post," he replies, his left hand tightening into a fist underneath the table. "My paperwork was being taken care of _and_ I knew my transfer to Central was imminent. Maes had agreed to celebrate over drinks whenever I was transferred to Central, and so I decided to surprise him."

 _Again, totally not a lie. Just_ try _calling me out on it, Wrath._

"You already knew about your transfer?" Bradley asks, not skipping a beat. "It has not even been finalized yet. Don't you think that's a bit early to be celebrating?"

"I was confident. And I'm _glad_ I was." He closes his eyes, pretending to look pained, as he adds, "If I had left a moment later, I can't imagine Maes would have made it out of that phone booth alive."

Bradley nods in agreement. "Yes, if you hadn't been there, Maria Ross surely would have taken his life. As it stands, she is awaiting execution for her crimes."

 _As if I don't know that already._ "I'm just glad that Maes is alive," Roy decides to say, trying to steer the conversation away from Ross. "Really, that's all that matters to me right now."

Bradley swirls his wine glass again, setting it down without taking a sip this time. "What about your own life?" he asks. "You were injured _far_ worse than Major Hughes in your attempt to save him, yet both Ross _and_ the Major claim that not a hand touched you. Even the doctors could find no signs of external damage to your body. How do you explain that, Colonel?"

"I don't know," he replies immediately. "I honestly don't remember much of what happened that night after I fired a warning shot at… Ross. I heard from Maes that I lost a _lot_ of blood—that's probably why I can't remember. I just hope that something like this doesn't happen ever again."

The Führer stares at him for an uncomfortably long time, as if trying to weigh the truth of Roy's last words. He won't find a lie in that statement—Roy really doesn't know what happened to himself, only a theory that it was some sort of equivalent exchange.

"You know, Colonel," Bradley begins, his hand tapping the handle of the carving knife next to his plate. "You're being praised as a hero once again for your actions. A soldier putting everything on the line for his own friend makes for quite the encouraging tale. But do you know what I think about your actions?"

"No, sir," Roy replies, trying his damned hardest not to sound angry.

"I think that your actions the other night may have constituted one of the single most idiotic things you have ever done in the entirety of your career," Bradley practically growls, not bothering to hide his wrath. "I do not care for your reasoning. I do not care that it is only because of you that Major Hughes is alive today. You are a _soldier_ before you are a _hero_ , Colonel Mustang, and soldiers are expected to follow orders—including remaining at their assigned post. If one soldier steps out of line, there are consequences for his whole unit—for his whole country. I suggest that you think about that the next time you decide to act in such a careless manner."

Roy rises from his seat, confident in pose, _seething_ in mind. "I don't need to 'think' about that," he says, matching Bradley's glare. "I would do it again in a heartbeat if I had to."

The Führer's glare does not lessen in the slightest. "Even at risk of being kicked out of the military?"

"If you're trying to make me regret my actions, you can go ahead and stop now," Roy retorts. "I made a promise to myself years ago—that I would protect everyone that I can so that they, in turn, can protect those that they love. I would be a hypocrite if I went and turned my back on that now."

They glare at each other again, the sound of the Führer tapping his knife being the only one that fills the room, until the door swings open. Mrs. Bradley and Selim have returned.

At once, all the animosity in the Führer's face is gone. "Ah, you both came back right on time. The Colonel and I just finished talking."

 _Like hell we did. I know you still have questions for me._

Roy bows to Mrs. Bradley. "I'm leaving now, but I just wanted to thank you again for the meal. It was delicious, and it was a great honor to be here." Straightening himself, he turns back to Bradley. "One more thing, sir. Maes said that he thinks he was attacked because of something he found out right beforehand. He did not tell me what it was that he uncovered."

The Führer's brow narrows, the slightest smirk appearing on his face. "Now Colonel, if you know that Major Hughes should not know that information, why would you want to know it?"

"I don't, sir. Just thought you should know."

* * *

 **A/N: Once again, kudos to Donjusticia for coming up with the dinner sequence thing because that never would have crossed my mind. But his version didn't have any mention of where Hughes was getting transferred, and it also had Elicia actually getting to ride the horses in this chapter (off-screen though). I unfortunately had to change that part—and** _ **that**_ **was the part that gave me trouble.**

 **This chapter's fun fact? While I was suffering from writer's block, my muses decided that instead of writing this chapter, they wanted to write a scene from a future chapter. So I have like, 1600 words for a chapter later on in the story written out now. Donjusticia has** _ **many**_ **future scenes already written out, though, because I asked him to write those scenes. …Okay maybe "asked" isn't the best word. "Pestered until he wrote them" is probably better.**

 **But I digress. Thank you all very much for reading this chapter, and please leave a review telling us what you think!**

 **Donjusticia Ending A/N: Awwwwwww, isn't friendship wonderful? I bet Selim and Elicia are gonna have the bestest most closest magical friendliest friendship ever! You all should in no way be worried about any of this! NOTHING bad could POSSIBLY happen!**


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